Sunday, October 24, 2010

the bathers think islands are separate like them

I've been trying to tune out the noise. To stretch my arms above my yoga mat, to connect my feet into the floor, to be fully present in close embrace, to walk slowly and with purpose, to breathe. New York is a different place now for me, less full of traps and ambushes, more full of friends and fountains and ethnic food. The drama is gone. And I am my own island, connected underground by years of glacial earth to other islands, tethered to my friends and to my loves. The lava cooled and I got strong.

Now back to our regularly scheduled programing of self-growth and survival skills. I have friends to see and brunches to eat, muscles to stretch and tango to practice. I have hours to spend starting at an empty page. The dance card of my day is full.


Phoenix said...

This post made me sublimely happy, not because you got what you wanted but because it's starting to look like you don't need anything else outside yourself to be happy.

A very good place to start, I think.

Anonymous said...

*Bimmer. Bimmer is a BMW automobile, Beemer is a BMW motorcycle, and Beamer is nuttin.