Body wise
My head recounts the work I have to do, but my feet are already at the door, my hands reaching down to sandals.
Who knows how many warm afternoons will be left to us this late summer? Not me! And there’s not much left of this one, sun just a few inches over the larch trees.
Through the school yard, across the basketball courts, the football field and into the park – I am not the only one! Baby stroller, bicycle commuter, grandpa, a kids’ soccer club, ahhh. . . real live people on a real live planet. Nothing digital about this! I feel my belly soften, I breathe more deeply, my shoulders stretch, I remember. My hips roll with each step, the simple pleasure of movement – the pleasure of what it feels like, these rolling hips, these stretching legs. This is the pleasure that feeds me.
Guys playing catch – I envy them the feel of baseball mitt on hand. I remember the solid thwack of a ball well caught, the sudden jolt to palm, vibration to bones, the relief of the end of not knowing - the pure satisfaction of it. Yeaaahhh – hmmm . . . I can tell by the sound this is a baseball, not a softball. I always preferred a baseball, as long as it wasn’t thrown too hard. Today, there is only the sound to enjoy, and the memory.
My walk has brought me back to the edge of the park, but my body has not satisfied its need. I take another loop. Grass is wet and cool now, sun dipping below trees, patches of light, patches of shadow.
A man calls his dog into a protected corner, and I wonder if he’s going through the fence for a short cut home. But no, his home is there in the edges, blue tarp strung over a rope between the trees. Very nicely done. Maybe he was a boy scout.
My thoughts go to removing my sandals and I wonder if the grass is too cold already, but too late! I’m already bending over, taking them off. They know, my feet! They always know! My mind seems to be always a few steps behind, not in front.
No matter what thoughts I have, worries grand or small, or brilliant flashes of insight, my creativity springs only from this, my body moving through the world, the afternoon sun. My body telling me what she needs, what she knows, who to trust, how to reach for sunlight or flesh or pleasure or rest.
I have learned to trust her, mostly. The hardest part is trusting her desires when I’m up close. Which is, of course, why I teach others how to do exactly that.