Indulgence: A Place called State of Mind

Source. Pexels.

by LJ Frank




a coffeehouse conversation with saxophone music playing in the background


Do you find massaging it to be more stimulating when you’re alone?

From Freud’s writings? Or from the Upanishads?

Whatever scripture you wish.

My ambiguous mindful urges are quite personal.

The sentiment is appreciated. Sometimes I think geography affected mine and being able to “fit in” more than what one would…shall we say…foresee.

So much appears to depend on where and how you want the “it” to fit.

You have an interesting thought-play process.

Don’t we all?

Intellectually, how would you describe “it”?

About the same as one of my marriages with a scheduled honeymoon in a quaint European village.


We took different flights. I showed up.

If it’s any consolation, a Buddhist priest told me to try not to be in control, just watch people and things, and let it all happen in a visible area, even if the area that appears visible is more of an illusion than a physical reality.

Hmm. I’d suggest the spiritual is never stagnant.

How do you assimilate the spiritual?

I’m an evolving agnostic.

Have you ever indulged yourself in the belief in a higher power?

The leap of faith in the invisible?

I suppose, in part.

The precarious place in which I reside is my State of Mind. Some days postmodern cosmological, other days like the ambience of a brick road winding through a Medieval looking village with a Gothic cathedral at its center and a synagogue across the road and other days like a monk on a mountainside chanting OM.

Are you still in therapy?

I was up until I became a therapist.