There are only a handful of things that succeed in slowing down my churning brain. Walking or running, painting, cooking, reading, sex, gardening. I spent all this morning with my bare hands in the dirt, planting rosemary and chamomile, tomatoes, purple peppers, basil and watermelons. I squeezed the dirt into wet clumps, like clay, then broke them apart by rubbing my fingers together. I did not have a single thought in my head, good or bad. I just was.
This past weekend I was in Philadelphia with my husband, visiting my artist friend Nina. We met up at Burlap and Bean Coffee, and eventually was able to hear an amazing musician and songwriter, Ellis. As amazing as her music was (is), what I was really struck by were her words, her conversation with the audience. She talked a bit about a song she wrote called "Let's Go to Yoga", and described the obvious difficulty in learning the poses and disciplines of the practice. But she also talked about how spacious she feels at the end of a class. How we do all these things, our computers and screens, and everything is right up in our faces. How often do we allow ourselves to stretch out, to take up a bit more space for just ourselves? I just loved that she touched on that, loved how she did it.
Important bulletin: Vince and I will be married seven years this Sunday. Seven. I mean, it isn't a lot compared to fourteen or twenty or fifty, but still. It's a lot for us, for how hard we've fought to be together.
