Air and Snow

I can’t write. I can’t sleep. There goes more of the wine, and some chocolate, and I’m surrounded by walls of boxes. Then I sleep. I sleep more deeply than I have in ages, but the dreams make no sense; I’m used to that, this week. I see ends and beginnings and snowfall piled high, but here the ground is still slick and dirty with old ice and slush. I’m skidding and falling in slow motion, but I don’t remember if I left my backpack on to break the fall; I can’t feel my arms.

So, yoga. Breathing. Moving. My joints pop and crack. “You have extra Vata energy,” my teacher says this morning. I feel too light, but not the unbearable lightness of being. This is the light of being no more than a shimmer on the slick city streets, and a transient force until the sun drops behind another high rise building. Will they miss me when I’m gone? Will I matter? I had a place and chose to find another place because this place was chipping away to form the ice sculpture that my soul became over the past three years. I don’t like the statute that’s half finished, fortunately,from these exertions, but until the sun really comes out, uninhibited, it’s not going to melt.

It’s colder here than it has been in a while, and I wore two pairs of leggings today, all day. I don’t feel brave. I don’t feel much, just lost and lonely; perhaps that’s the air that’s settled into my joints, the light beams that peak through dusty windows, the dry, rough boxes and the dust that arises as I move books that haven’t been disturbed in the year I’ve inhabited my apartment. This is falling while standing, and a spinning of the horizon that has nothing to do with suddenly losing contact with the ground.

Except this time, as I feel my foot move up and out into nothing, I shift my weight and float backwards into soft snow. Here I can make a snow angel, which I haven’t done in years. I can feel my fingers tingle in the cold, the sun bright on my face, and the light fluttering my heart, warm and certain.

Life and Home moving winter

mirseven View All →

“I didn’t need these things. I didn’t need them.”

2 Comments Leave a comment

  1. You wrote “will I matter?”, “the ice sculpture that my soul became.”, ” I don’t feel much, just lost and lonely;”, ” light fluttering my heart, warm and certain.” Your words share your life, your feelings in a way that makes me stop short. I found myself moved to introspection that I haven’t felt in some time. So few words but strength, power and feeling. I read and reread your offering this morning and found something each time to think on. I really enjoy, no, relish your writing. Thank you, you have added to my day!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Wow! Thank you SO very much for your kind words, and thoughts. I appreciate and am grateful that you read my blog — I appreciate your sharing your response to my work, it means a lot!
    If you have a blog and write, please send it on.


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