Spinning plates

I’m a spinning disk in a world of spinning disks. My particular plate has settled to comfortable rpm. Other plates are spinning at their own rates. The sticks that hold us all afloat bend under our weight and we bob up and down occasionally touching and clattering.

I’m on the outside and often I feel I spin in the opposite direction to the others.

I like being outside. I have fantasized for decades about being alone on a desert island; about being deaf or just sitting in a wood, alone and silent. I look into at the clattering mess and sparks of the other plates and feel happy where I am.

I have captured moments in a car after a busy night, (that followed a busy day), silent and alone. Engine off and radio powered down, I listen to my breath and try to silence that. With my eyes closed I can feel relaxation seep into me like the brown into a sugar cube held in a spoon, descending into hot tea.

Usually there is a noise in the street of someone revving their engine, kicking a can or shouting drunkenly. Last week I sat in the car in silence and about 10 teenagers walked down the middle of the road and a car had to stop and beep it horn. Tsk! Some kids slowing down another driver’s spinning plate.

I feel my plate is slowing down naturally and I’m happy to let it.

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