Groundhogblog

Since I haven’t done this for a while I guess I’ll start from a place I’ve been before. The dentist’s chair. That is where I found myself on Groundhog Day 2010. And perhaps there is more truth to those opening lines than their obvious inadequacies as gripping turns of literature. It doesn’t really pull you in does it? Regardless it’s the truth, and the truth can be boring…get used to it. Maybe if I twist it a bit, give it a ferocious turn or a mighty stretch, gripping and interesting would be the adjectives that float to the surface of your thoughts in describing a routine as humdrum as teeth cleaning. Is this all sinking in? So, I was in the dentist’s chair. Drooling between monosyllables as I attempt to answer to the dental hygienists trivial questions. The same questions, reformatted every six months. My son did this; my son did that… blah…blah…blah. I hate to fain interest during polite formalities, such as the conversation I’m describing. I usually prefer no refrain from all forms of communication during moments of relaxation. And having my teeth cleaned is certainly one of those moments. Oh how I enjoy those biannual cleanings. I have heard there are those of you who fear, dread, loose sleep over those preventive upkeeps, and I will say now that I do not understand you. We are incompatible. How can that be? You obviously do not frequent the same Zen-garden/dentists office I do. I’m not joking. The chair in which I find myself twice a year is front row seating to a visual feast for the meditatively inclined mind. Six very large windows on the north and east walls make privy an enchanting view of a dense thicket, back dropped by celestial reaching mountains. So it is here that I purposely schedule my cleanings, always in the mornings when I am still tired, this is very important so as to allow for the ideal state of relaxation. I sometimes think about grapes. Grapes large and small. Red and green, dark and pale. I like grapes. They make a delicious snack or juice. And treated just the right way they can make a wonderful muse. Would I make this up? Other times I find myself thinking of nothing at all. I really strive to think of nothing. Zip. A blank Canvas. A dumb horse’s mouth. Mouth…mouth teeth…teeth chatter…chatterbox? No. Teeth? Yes, teeth…talk…talk, too much…much too much…yes! The dentist talked too much I mentioned earlier, and it still holds true. But now I realize that I’m talking too much. I’m being way too long-winded, but perhaps I’ve lost my way. Or is my way sound and the path is where the fault lies? We are constantly concerned with moving forward in a linear fashion, we sometimes miss the turns and folds in the labyrinth. But not that morning, no that morning I was tuned in; I didn’t miss a beat. Literally not a beat, because, as it were music clued me in, it was the device that exposed the glitch. So there I was in the dentists chair when the landscape fell flat and I could see forward and back, side-to-side, up and down. The Sound of Silence was deafening. Or rather not, it was adjusted to a reasonable volume but the effect was sublime. That overplayed classic by Simon and Garfunkel could be heard softly, accenting the sterile quite of that office. And I realized that I had been there before. But of course that is obvious, I go there twice a year. But no, this feeling was different. I knew that exact moment had been mine once before, I had played that game previous, I knew my lines well, I was my own understudy. Everything became clear. So there I was. My moment of Déjà vu struck me in the dentist’s chair. I was tense as hell, anything but relaxed – having my teeth cleaned is like a death march through the mud – all I wanted was a bit of small talk to ease my mind.