I used to say things like I was never good at math and can you figure out the tip? Now I'm drawn to calculating because there's always a formula that ends in something that feels like certainty.
I miss believing that I knew the answer.
I miss believing that I knew.
I miss believing.
I open my eyes in meditation to watch my dog dream. I tell myself you're breaking meditation, bad bad bad. A better part of me knows I watch because in the future, when now is too difficult, I'll want to think back and remember her twitching legs.
I once told my therapist that someone dear in my life really didn't understand me, and I found this frustrating. She was silent, blinked a few times, cleared her throat.
How could she possibly understand you?
In the 2010 film Rites of Love and Math, a renowned mathematician develops a formula for love and writes it on his beloved's abdomen in thick black ink. The only numbers in the formula are 0, 1, and infinity.