It is 430 in the morning. My body is aching for cuddling, for warmth, for touch. Since none is forthcoming I get up and do yoga. A sun salutation, triangle pose, a few limited hip openers. I am sore from walking nearly six miles yesterday. Stiff. Yearning. I sit in meditation. Trying with very limited success to block out the strength of desire that is coursing through me, I recall telling a student that mediation isn’t prayer, because I am not asking God for anything, nor am I thanking God for anything. I am just sitting with God, in the presence of God. I breathe, until my feet are asleep. I hold my beating bleeding heart up, and say here please take this, because I really cannot stand to hang onto it anymore. I imagine myself back on that life raft not the rickety broken one that I dragged myself onto when my marriage ended, but onto a more sturdy craft. I think I at least know how to manage it in the storms. But then I say no. I am a sea worthy vessel, and I still carry that treasure chest with the luminescent pearl. Back to one. Back to one. Yes here it is. I take that pearl the whole damn strand of precious gems and let them drop into the still waters of this hidden cove where I am moored. They plunk as they drift into the abyss. Back to one. Or none. For a half a second my mind is quiet and still. I can feel the breeze blowing in my windows. I can feel my body. I am thinking only of my breath, the wind, and the tingling in my feet. But that moment is fleeting. I bow.
I throw on my cutoff shorts and head down stairs. My Mom is up already, but I just want to walk the dog. It looks like rain. I bring my umbrella. My legs feel strong. It is good to be out in the cool breeze and grey skies. About halfway the dog stops and puts his head on my leg, smiling up at me. You are welcome buddy I say. I needed to get out, I needed this walk. I see the walking guy in the neighborhood. How many miles do you walk a day? 4. This is why I have been walking so much this spring, and now summer. Forget the number on the scale, I just want to be more lean and strong like he is. Stupid ego. I want to be lean and strong because I want male attention. But no it is also because I want to be aesthetically pleasing to my own artist eye. The ratio of ankle to calf. The way a muscled leg flexes as it walks. A flashy spot to show off the tattoo on my leg. An ornate skeleton key, with a smoke dragon wrapped around it.
I get into work and it is clear that only myself and the custodians are here today. And I have forgotten my book. It will be a long day. But I have done yoga, meditated and walked. I think it started out pretty well.