2 Comments
User's avatar
Melanie Goodman's avatar

There's something in the way you've described the head being somewhere else all day, always a task behind the body, that I've never seen put into words quite like that. The gap between where you are and where your attention is takes something from you that you can only count once the day is over. I recognise that bedtime reckoning completely. Do you think it's possible to feel the day as it's happening, or does the shape of a life like this make that almost impossible?

Alice Stephenson's avatar

Thank you for this. 'A task behind the body' is a sharper naming than mine, and I'm going to keep that one with me. I don't know the answer to your question. There are moments where the day breaks through, and I catch up with myself for a minute. But these are moments. The day-shape is motion, and the moments are exceptions inside it. To ask that we feel the day as it's happening might be asking for a kind of attention this shape of life won't permit. Maybe the bedtime reckoning is the way a life like this gets felt, and we should focus on what we do with the felt thing once it arrives.