Every day I look up and watch the underside of leaves. The bellies and wings of birds, banking half-circles. I haven't slept much and when I look down I'm dizzy. I smell ferns. Licorice and it's sweet, toothy. I suck the stems and try to get my balance and think of smiling at you. That makes me dizzy too.
All this looking up in the sky watching leaves and dragonflies and birds is like a stream flowing downhill. It's impossible not to fall in love. Why even try to hold to this rock? I'll look back up into the sky and forget what solid ground feels like. Fall in love as many times as necessary, all the loves, all at once. The sky is my constancy now. Movement is my sense of peace.
Suzuki says we're practicing zen even when we're lying down but I practice best when I'm moving. On my bike; in the dark middle of the night running some trail outside of St. Helens or Vernonia; bouncing in and out of the bike shop so fast one day a guy riding down the sidewalk slams into me. He's sorry but I just want him to go away so I can try and get myself moving again. At home my record player's needle should be replaced and in the meantime I'm bouncing up and down to nudge it so the records don't repeat.
When I'm riding my bike and when I'm running I practice holding my head up so it holds up the sky. I do yoga on the sides of mountains and costumed camp counsellors tell me, "you get it girl," and I get it and I put my left hand over my right and make an oval like I've been taught by reading books about zen. And I run back down the hill and if I keep moving I know I can be still.
I keep moving. I keep moving. I take deep breaths for a moment but I'm always moving, riding my bike through the night streets with people who are young for me but not too young. I mean who is ever too young for anyone? I am not one to judge another person's love. Not any more. And all my little and big falling in love, it swoops me up with it, fall up into the bowl of sky says Rumi. I open my arms wide like I always do. Expose that beautiful heart. Later Debbie will tell me to put a door on it but I'm not ready yet for any sort of closing. I open it and close my eyes and let the sky just lift me.
I'll fall down again and again, in the coming weeks. The sky can't always take my weight. I'm heavy. I'm coming at the sky with all my intensity and sometimes I'm moving too fast. Sorry love. Swoop me up again. Hold on! I'm smiling at you even through my tears. Take me up, I know I'm still moving, and that's what we both need isn't it?comments powered by Disqus