i fold my hands and they don't feel like my own. my fingers feel thick, awkward. i make fists and my skin feels tight, my joints stiff, but i also notice a strength i didn't expect, surprising because it's my own body.
i spent the day moving as little as possible, and it was glorious. sweet, soft breezes came through my kitchen window as i savored every last section of the newspaper. i blinked slowly, breathed slowly, felt my heart slowly circulate blissful calm. i thought about going to the gym but sitting, still, seemed like a much better idea. i spent about an hour eating a plate of completely ungarnished celery and lettuce and i thoroughly enjoyed every bite. (raw vegetables, slowly chewed, how i have neglected thee!) later i cooked a hamburger of biodynamic local beef, medium rare, and ate it with onion, ketchup and mustard on sliced brioche i brought home from work. it was so wonderful that i made another, more rare than medium, and reeled in pleasure and amazement at how truly delicious quasi-raw beef could be. oh, self of two years ago, living on soymilk, dumpster bagels, and earth balance buttery spread, if only you could see me now!
it wasn't hard at all for me to relax today, though it might have been. my body shifted effortlessly from a seven-day, eight-shift stretch of physically demanding work to a steady, unwavering internal calm. did the release from work make it possible? or, maybe, was i actually calm all along? or did i yearn so strongly for the calm that i was powerless to its embrace when it finally arrived? like faraway lovers, sun and air and black skies filled with stars wait for me on distant shores, and i wait, unwavering in my loyalty even as i choke on smog under anemic grey-blue night skies, working working working, until the day we meet again.
