Few Things

It’s been a while. I’ve. Gotten a few jobs and lost a few. The sense of urgency and importance in my ability to portray my mundane day to day activities has faded. Sometimes I think I’ll regret not writing, other times I know I could have never kept up.

I am about 8 classes into a 30 day Bikram yoga challenge. No reason really except like that old friend you fucking hate, I miss my practice.  My body feels like a crushed dumpster on the brink of waking up as a trunk of treasure. I found a studio on the side of town I now live on. I’m a heat junkie of sorts. Addicted to suffering, disappointed if I didn’t suffer enough. Let it be hot yoga. Hot springs. Sweat lodges. Crank it up.  My husband taught a class there. It was so hot he passed out. So hot the mirrors are covered in fog. 116 roughly with 75% humidity. When I practice like this I eat apples, nuts and smoothies. I feel a lot better, sleep better, and enjoy whining about my calves feeling like my foot got amputated a month ago and I ran a marathon anyway.

I find great satisfaction in the feeling that my face is pouring off of my head. I repeat in my head “Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you for this.”  I’ve learned a big secret lately, and it is in ways and means of prayer. That one doesn’t simply pray for the things that might be.. you just say thank you for the beauty, strength, wealth, joy, love… that can be found in any moment, no matter how mundane or sensational.

Everything I have ever wished for can somehow, intricately be found in the present moment. Developing the willingness to feel that sight of all just as it is is comforting.

In the end, there is no end picture. Only now. Life is good. High quality and bright. The circles are small and tight. In that safety, I learn about expansion, building trust and security. Gone are the marvelings of “I can’t believe I get this.” No, I’ve earned it. I’ve done the work to set aside the insanity. I didn’t choose to run instead. I don’t live in a hologram of loss and fear.

I’m just moving forward. With my art, with my books, with my drug counseling, yoga teaching, meditation and art therapy.

I had to take a writing hibernation. My voice changed. I got older. I’m not lost, and I’m not sad. I’m here, and grateful to be.

Love to you, wherever you are





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