I wake up to a beeping box. I hit the box a few times in order for me to get a few extra minutes sleep. It beeps again, and I get out of bed.
I walk to a colorful box, with letters that I tap and click to write words and connect with others.
I take food out of a cold box that does not beep, and warm it up on top of a metal white box to make coffee. I also take a frozen item and place it in a black box that whines and beeps when the food is hot.
The whole time, I hear chiming sounds announcing the arrival of texts intermittently on my portable electronic box, the one that is a smaller version of the large one with the apple on it where I tap the keys.
Before I leave with the family in my shiny metal box, the one with a horn and a turn indicator and a radio, I uncover the bird in his black wire box. I check on the mice in the white metal box. I adjust the grey and black box's knob to make sure they are not cold in the day. And I turn on the yellow box that plays music for them while we are away. There are two other pets in glass boxes to check. I wake up the family, feed them, and coax them into the shiny box, strapping them in. Each has a box full of food for the noon meal.
At work, I put my clothes in a locked metal box. I change into scrubs. I walk up to a robotic pink box, click some keys, and out of a drawer take a necklace of keys that will unlock two sets of locks to remove a small red metal box full of controlled substances for my work. There is another lock on this box to get medicines out.
I check the large electronic box for safety, and take items out of a metal locked box on wheels that is taller than me and arrange these items for my patient. I attach my patient to this box, and vigilantly watch as this combined patient-box beeps and surgery is taking place.
At the end of the day, I reverse the steps. After making food, I put the dishes in a white metal box and think to myself of its age and how I really should invest in a new one. I am pleased with the steam-capable large silver box I have bought to help wash the clothes, as this purchase had been a vast improvement over the prior white metal box that had matched the dryer box.
When I have a few minutes, I join the family in front of a series of boxes for our entertainment. One of the boxes attaches to the screen and we play and we jump in front of it to make our 'players' move on the screen. This box was Santa's present last year to the family, and it takes photos of us as we jump and play, and we laugh at our image that is projected on this box.
Once tucked in bed, I am fast asleep, ready to start anew. But now, I must step into a clear box to wash and freshen up for my new day.
Is this what Source intended? To interact with man-made boxes throughout my day? Or to be free to interact with others, to smile, and to enjoy hearts as we work through our daily boxes together? One day, all of us will be buried in a cold box that never beeps...time to enjoy Life as we know it, and hope for a better way of Life to arrive soon.
Namaste,
Reiki Doc
