Praxis: The Beginning

Life doesn't happen all at once. Each moment is built upon the other, like strokes in a painting.The challenge is seeing the entire picture, even if it's only half done and riddled with regrets and mistakes.

These are your moments, your work in progress.

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My work in progress seems stalled. Okay, it is stalled, warbling in place, frightening me.

I hear the floorboards creak. OH SHIT! My heart begins to race. I reach for my lit cigarette and put it beside me before leaning forward to peer into the hall. Mum never sees the smoke, and she can't bark at me for smoking upstairs if she can't see or smell the cigarette.

"Are you okay?" I ask her. You won't find a bit of my anxiety attack attached to this routine. I'm also pinching the cherry off that cigarette with my bare hand.

"I'm okay," Jeff replies. He's headed towards the bathroom.

Phew!

Oh, wait... SMACK!

I hastily light a new cigarette as emotions ripple throughout my mind. My mother will never catch me smoking. She's dead. I'm quietly crying as I type this.

I wrote the heading quote yesterday. I am trying to find order in the chaos. I am trying to recenter myself.  My praxis - my work in progress - begins at this very moment.