Six months ago, I cried on my friend's sweater. I was in the netherworlds but it wasn't right, I wasn't supposed to be there yet. I couldn't fall asleep and if I did, I dreamt of being trapped or of finding a baby lying in the snow. My shoulders led a life of pain of their own. There was a dragonic thesis waiting for me in the lake area.
It isn't wise to compare time according to my customized version of a zen-style theory on living in the moment. My drama teacher said try to be in the moment, when I had to be angry in a scene that took place on the underground. We all practiced by breathing in and breathing out. Being where your body is. Experiencing the cold as well as the heat. Not turning away from the here and the now. Facing things, the way they are. Breathing in, breathing out.
Moving between nether and lake and other world, nothing changes but for small timequakes. I return after weeks or months and nothing has changed but the moment. I have tried to face post-timequake places, for their own sake, without comparing. Breating in, breathing out.
Then my friend asked are you sure you are alright?