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Abstract

ow would things sound if I stopped thinking?</li></ul><h2 id="9fa8">Somatic Field</h2><ul><li>Which part of my body is the least comfortable?</li><li>Which parts of my body are hardest to detect?</li><li>What happens when I concentrate on two body parts at once?</li><li>Do any bad emotions arise during the body scan?</li><li>How would my body change if I stopped thinking about it?</li></ul><h2 id="778a">Taste Field</h2><ul><li>Does the taste change as I roll it around my tongue?</li><li>How does the intensity compare with other things I have tasted?</li><li>How would it taste if I had never smelled it?</li><li>Does my feeling about the taste change between first contact and swallow?</li><li>How would it taste if I were asleep right now?</li></ul><h2 id="a87c">Olfactory Field</h2><ul><li>Would I recognize the smell if I had not seen it?</li><li>What adjectives are suitable? (Smooth? Bold? Sweet? Floral?)</li><li>How close must it come to me before my nose can detect it?</li><li>Does it improve my mood or worsen it?</li><li>What memories does it bring to mind?</li></ul><h2 id="5631">Cognitive Field</h2><ul><li>If my thoughts were rabbits in a yard, how crowded would the yard be?</li><li>If my attention was a dog, which rabbits would it chase?</li><li>How much of my focus three seconds ago was on the past?</li><li>How does a little circle make me feel?</li><li>What would I be dreaming now if I were not awake?</

Options

li></ul><h2 id="9690">Emotional Field</h2><ul><li>How easy or hard is it to turn each feeling on and off?</li><li>What changes will happen when I start to pray?</li><li>If I were the prow of a ship would my sea be bright under the sun?</li><li>Who have I shared this suffering with?</li><li>How deeply do I love you?</li></ul><figure id="ef74"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*31vXTbzWPAdDxN72iuu31w.jpeg"><figcaption>Photo by Author | Dancing with the Goddess</figcaption></figure><h2 id="1f17">Questions After the Scans are All Finished</h2><ul><li>Did I close my eyes for most of the scans?</li><li>In what ways are mental fields like maps?</li><li>If I were only allowed to keep one field, which one would I choose?</li></ul><h1 id="010c">Note</h1><p id="4022">To the best of my recollection, all the questions are in my own words. If I copied anybody from unconscious memory it was probably my first remote meditation teacher, <a href="https://www.thegreatcourses.com/professors/mark-w-muesse/">Mark Muesse</a>, a Therevada practitioner from Texas.</p><h1 id="d3c3">About the Author</h1><p id="f104">Tom spends his workdays asking people in a big store if they would like any information about heating and cooling. He often wears an Indiana Jones hat. A grapevine in his front yard convinced him to let her live and to even provide her with a little support. That’s all. :)</p></article></body>

Golden Eyes

An Unexpected Guest

Photo by Scarbor Siu on Unsplash

I overslept and I’m running through my apartment like a running back trying to score a touchdown. If I’m even one second late to work, I’m going to get the stink eye from my boss.

To save time, I skipped taking a shower, but I did brush my teeth… sort of. Hastily, I threw on jeans, socks, and Nikes, then realized I can save even more time if I finish getting dressed, comb my hair, and eat breakfast at the traffic lights. Don’t judge.

So, I grabbed the shirt that I planned to wear, my cell phone, and a pack of Pop-Tarts. Reaching the front door at record speed, I yanked it open and sprinted over the threshold.

Funny thing is, somehow, I lose my footing as I’m making a mad dash into the hallway. Instead of being halfway to my car, I end up flat on my face and eating the carpet… literally.

Everything I’d been carrying drops, scattering in all different directions. To make matters worse, Miss 304 witnessed the entire thing.

Let me backtrack a bit. Two months ago, Miss 304, aka the woman of my dreams, moved directly across the hall from me. I have only admired her from afar and have yet to introduce myself. I know… I know, but while my courage is in the repair shop, I was just waiting for the right moment.

“Hi, I’m Dorsey, Henry Dorsey,” I imagined saying casually. You know… James Bond style. Instead, our introduction is me crashing to the floor with a thud hard enough to knock the wind out of me… all in front of her.

To my surprise, Miss 304 gasps. “Are you okay?” she asks.

Her concern is so genuine that I almost feel better, but I’m also stunned. We are in close proximity and that’s new, so I don’t answer right away. As a matter of fact, this is the story I’m sure we will laugh about and share with our children. A boy and girl, I decide, and I can almost visualize them. They are jumping up and down excitedly begging, “Please, tell us again daddy, how you and mommy met.”

I see myself laughing and giving in to the wee ones wishes. Retelling with gusto, how we fell in love, until my daydream fizzles when I realize that Miss 304 is looking at me oddly. It dawns on me then; how ridiculous I must look.

I am hoping that she can’t tell that I haven’t showered, and I am still sprawled out on the floor. To top it all off, I am also shirtless. ‘Way to go, Henry,’ I think to myself.

“I’m okay,” I finally say, scrambling to my feet.

Looking down, I realize there really is no recovering from this. Humiliated, I bend down and begin picking up my belongings.

“That wasn’t my finest moment,” I mumble. My bruised ego won’t allow me to look her in the eyes, but I try to make light of my blunder. “I don’t even know what I tripped over.”

“You tripped over your cat,” Miss 304 informs me.

Confused, I look up at her. “My cat?” I repeat… because I don’t have any pets. It’s then that I notice that she’s in a tank top, shorts, and is holding a water bottle. She must have been about to go for a run.

Tilting her head to one side, she’s studying me, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Oh no. I mean yes. I’m sorry, what I mean is, I forgot that I’m late for work.” Hating that I am babbling like a moron, I hurry back to my door to lock up.

I am just about to take the ‘walk of shame’ to my car when I spin back around with determination. It is important that I redeem myself. “By the way, yes… I am fine. Thanks for asking.”

All day at work, I can’t get that moment out of my mind. The embarrassing encounter plays over and over in my brain like a YouTube video that has gone viral. As soon as I get back home, I jump in the shower and scrub away the thick layer of humiliation, then I brush my teeth… properly.

It isn’t until I put on a shirt and sweatpants, that I begin hearing the strangest sound. The thing is, I have neighbors upstairs, downstairs, and on both sides of me. Even so, the longer I stand there listening, I am positive that the sound isn’t coming from any other apartment. It’s coming from mine. However, my attention quickly shifts to the knock at my front door.

My mouth drops when I open the door and see Miss 304. Earlier, her hair was braided back for her run, but now wavy curls frame a face that is not only gorgeous, but cheerful, too.

“Hi,” a pop tart packet sways back and forth in her fingers, then she hands it to me. “I figured this was yours.”

“Yeah, I was looking for that, thanks.” Then remembering my manners, I invite her in.

“My name is Sheri, with an ‘I’,” she extends her hand towards me after stepping in.

“I’m Dorsey, Henry Dorsey.” I’m pleased that the 007 line wasn’t wasted after all, but while we’re in the middle of our handshake, there it is again. That same peculiar sound resonates through the room.

Our arms drop back to our sides. Then, we stare at each other like we are the only two people in the entire world that can hear the Jumanji drums.

“What is that?” her eyes dart curiously about.

“Gremlins, maybe?” I say filling her in on my after work adventures, which takes all of 20 seconds since I hadn’t been home long.

Right then, we decide to team up, like Romeo and Juliet, Shrek and Fiona, or Edward and Bella… sorry, Jacob. Our gaze travels as we search room to room, then five minutes into our investigation, we are both cautiously peering under my bed.

I should point out that I’m not sure which is more shocking. The fact that Sheri with an ‘I’ is in my bedroom, or that just beneath my bed is a pair of golden eyes staring back at us.

On the whole, I am fairly alarmed by the uninvited animal sharing space in my abode, even if there is an “Aww” coming from my wife to be.

“It’s your cat,” Sheri whispers coaxing the fur ball from its hiding place.

“No,” I correct, still irked that this intruder made itself at home. “I don’t own a cat. How did it get in here in the first place?”

“I know you,” Sheri manages to get Golden eyes out and is cradling it in her arms like a newborn. “This is the little culprit that you stumbled over this morning Henry. My guess is that he ran in here because your front door was wide open.”

“The question is…” she continues. “If this isn’t your cat, then whose cat is it? It would seem that it’s up to us to find out where this little guy belongs.”

‘Us’… I like the sound of that, but what does she mean exactly? “What do you have in mind?” I ask following her into the living room.

“Well…” She sits on the couch with the cat still in her arms.

I don’t want to be presumptuous, so I settle down across from her in the old recliner I got from Dad.

Looking over at me, Sheri adds, “I really think you should keep the little guy here.”

“Here?” Surely, I must have heard her wrong. “Meaning… in this apartment? With me?”

Sheri is stroking the cat’s fur, and Golden eyes is purring loudly now. “Temporarily… one night at the most. I’ll print up some fliers first thing in the morning. I’ll bet we will get a response by tomorrow night. What do you say?”

I want to say that we should deposit Golden eyes in the hallway, back from whence it came, but I can’t. Think about it, saying no to Sheri’s request might force me into an inescapable, triple-bolted friends’ box. I don’t want that to happen.

Like it or not, I’ll have to go through with it, but I almost choke on the words. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

Not only does Sheri look relieved, but her smile warms my heart enough to make my palms sweaty. The only thing is, something tells me that this isn’t going to go as planned.

Find out what happens next in Golden Eyes… Part 2.

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