The last few days my mind has been tripping over all kinds of things. Searching. Taste-testing. Falling from heights I did not realize were inside of me.
Then I remember – The simple but often forgotten practice of rediscovering my body.
It’s a slow, patient, process that I don’t always believe there is time for.
But it is the remedy. It is the antidote. It is the way home and the warm glow of an ancient hearth fire.
I bask in how it went. Grabbing toes, turning on the little muscles that make my ass and thighs shake. Twitching, counting, dancing, having little contests with myself. The smell of my hair as it tickles my nose in a long-held pose.
The stretch and lengthening that my breath creates. The beat of bass-rich rhythms that turn the lights down in my mind, make all the rough spots smooth, and the uncertain spots strong.
Remembering that I have a body always helps with the anxiety that comes this time of year.
Remembering My roots, remembering I belong in this place, in this vessel that is governed by universal laws.
I am not “on the outside” of anything. This shelter I call my body is made of the same elements that have produced planets, including the one I live on. All the lifeforms here (including me) are bits of her flesh.
The same processes that propel the moon and stars move me through time and space as well.
I am part of the body of life. I’m a sliver of the infinite.
And it’s all going to be ok.
Suddenly there is nothing “too” big anymore. Things are small and put in there proper proportions.
Human drama = minuscule. Loneliness = impossible. Life = unstoppable. This moment = everything I need.
Because this body, this planet, this life are propelled by a kind of love-giving energy.
And it shows me how to be the one who loves me.
Ps. This song.
Kenzie's Desk 