The astute might have noticed that one's Slack Awareness usually varies in direct proportion to the amount of pain one has experienced. This isn't a mere accident. As long as we're stuck with these meat shells, it's almost impossible to notice slack without first having your consciousness entirely focused on your hurts. And I must be specific: I'm not talking about metaphorical, psychological, existential, or inconsequential pain. I'm only talking about true, physical, visceral pain.
Today I ache in muscle groups I forgot existed, my sinuses are only now recovering from internal pressure so great that I pulled a nasal "Ol' Faithful" in the middle of the night, and I can still feel the tender throbing of my shattered right toenail. But the biggest part of the move is over, and the majority of our furniture and possessions are now safely in the new house. Thea and I slept in our bedroom for the first time and enjoyed a profound darkness and quiet that our old, urban apartment couldn't give. (It took an hour or so before my eyes adjusted well enough to see anything at all, and Thea was blind the whole time.) We got up and had breakfast, then Thea laid back down for a nap while I sat on the porch and sucked in all the glorious oxygen that our little slice of Green Hell, and if I hurt--and I do hurt, ghods do I!--yet I hurt with a sense of deep satisfaction, relaxation, and a profound sense of "just-right". Ah, slack!