Set the timer for twelve minutes.  Pretend the computer keyboard is a musical keyboard and blow.   The chords, as you know, are harmonies, instant, under your hands just like that.  Then there are the notes you can play against them and where you can put them.  

Oh, perhaps it is better, you think, to play an actual musical keyboard. There, you reason, you can put your fingers and hear the sounds you imagine, you try to describe.  Music, ineffable as that breeze suddenly blowing the sweat off your clammy face.

Well, there is a point to that, whereas here, where I tap like the fingers-afflicted victim of RLS, the bebopping leg shakes that can’t be controlled, as mine can’t be now, we are flying without a chart, without a map, without an audible clue, rhythmless and bluesless.  Such is the nature of this anxiety I am attempting the home cure for now. There is the best way to deal with it, and then there is the way we are capable of dealing with it in the given moment.

I have to say, it’s amazing the energy with which my right leg is pounding away.

That said, the rest is to be expected.  Sustaining a dream takes a remarkable, and/or, idiotic temperament, particularly when you can’t get others to really see the dream you dream.  That’s the hard work of the dreamer, to prove the dream is more than vapor in the mind of the person who dreams it.   How to show the focused excitement the living embodiment of that dream brings forth?   Hmmmmm.   How to control ze uncontrollable tapping of this right leg of mine?  It’s the damnedest thing.

I am waiting to hear, waiting to hear, waiting.  And because I’m in this holding pattern, waiting to hear, my leg has gone insane.  Lucky for the neighbor downstairs the foot is clad in a soft rubber croc, thus no tap tap tap on the ceiling.  Ah, now the RLS has miraculously stopped, and not a moment too soon.

A beautiful young woman, very talented, described her panic attacks the other day.   She begins hyperventilating and can’t stop herself.  The more fearful she gets, the worse it gets.   She sees a therapist, but so far, the attacks continue.

There is a merciless force at work in the universe, along with life-giving things like good music, kindness, love and hope.  Better to give hope, have it, share it, than to dwell on the merciless force always at work.  That force is busy whittling away at the life of an old friend who hopes to live to see his 58th birthday, this Friday the 13th.   It is busy eroding all of us, unless we tap into the forces that give life, and even then, it’s an iffy proposition at best.