Hello Old Friend, remember me? I greeted you once or twice before a long, long time ago. Where did I go, you ask? Somewhere down a rabbit hole, through a world of happy ups and stressful downs, and eventually back out the other side. Vague, you say? Isn’t that the fun in mystery ; )
Speaking of time and where it has flown, I’d like to share an almost anniversary piece from a free-write this time last year. The chill in the air was about the same with a little more color and a little more mist. Here’s a tasty teaser to get your toes tingling for autumn and all its mystery.
Today is a paradigm of sinew weather. Gray skies of melancholy swirl in a mixture with the faintest caress of the autumn breeze. My lungs are intoxicated by this concoction of bliss. The air touches my skin and penetrates my pores. It tingles my nerves with ticklish fingers and grabs hold of my muscles beckoning them to stretch.
Oh, I long to stretch; to please my arms with careful extension; to lengthen my neck like a flowery stalk; to flex and point the limbs of my body like the long branches of the golden-burnt trees.
I long to move; to feel confidence in my strength as I lift my weighty legs; to crack and press my toes deep into the clovery grass.
I long to dance; to surrender my efforts and will to the subconscious flow of my frame, waxing and waning with the earth’s rotation.
I long for adrenaline to rush through my veins; to leave me tingling all over with anticipation, uncertainty, and freedom.
These dormant ligaments, these tightened sinew crave liberation: release. This weather creates the perfect dancer stage with its silky grass laid out as my platform, with its hovering auburn-gold leaves pinned up like applause waiting to rain down their support and praise, with its smoky-hazelnut air as my silent music.
Oh, how I long to dance in this sinew weather.