I’ve been dreaming of a room where air is colored muzak pink and voices echo like electronic synthesized gongs. This place vibrates with crescendos and walls morph into manipulated waves. Everything is in motion; nothing is solid here.
It’s raining a soft darkness. The electronic music I’m plugged into while writing splashes. My brain synchs in with the notes and vibrates at a frequency allowing inspiration. Reset, I hear myself softly whisper I’m alive. Dichotomies transparent ripple like ghosts and dance above me. The wake of laced breeze is warm and undetected, I listen coatless..
“Turn off the news”… I’ve already done that.
“Move off social media”… been taking widening breaks..
Things are breaking down radio waves taunt: ‘The planet, Social conventions, Un-healthy ways of living, Leadership. Norms are changing.’
Today while driving a man in a suite walks by. “What a strange uniform,” I think out loud. “Fashion with patriarchy woven in every thread.”
My shoulder aches. The physical therapist I see tells me it’s my ribs. One side is frozen unmoving. My asymmetry apparently causes my shoulder to ache while painting. Too many ribbed injuries. The small inter costal muscles on the right side of my body have contracted deeply.
I attribute this present dull pain to too much painting and too little yoga. I’m off balance.
Ducking into coffee shops rather than marching into the studio because painting hurts. What is calling me? What is the message from ribs and shoulders?
Moving moving in perpetual motion. Airplanes and airports. Flying here and there. Reading again. I crave expansiveness and have landed on an old text by Ksemaraja “The Recognition Sutras” The philosophy of Kashmir Shivism. Awareness aware of awareness unconstricted unveiled, like sun melting snow revealing spring! “—recognition, that is, of oneself as a direct expression of the universal divine Consciousness. Recognition also that this Consciousness is, in truth, all that exists, and that its five fundamental powers of awareness, enjoyment, willing, knowing, and acting are the sacred endowments of every sentient being.”
I’m unthawing and cracking open and in synch with seasonal change. Adams rib or mine? My name is Eva. Much is happening both above ground and underground. My body aching begs for attention. With therapy, softness begins to seep into my muscles and pulls me into something new.
Life does not always gift us what we crave. Life does gift us an opportunity to reboot into what we are part of. Seasonal shifts are opportunities, remembering us to the earth, reminding us we too transition and change. In the Northeast seasons inform us. Winter brings 10 extra pounds and contraction. Spring brings preparation and engagement. Summer brings fruition. And in Fall we harvest what we have sewn.
As the light strengthens and snow recedes long brown un-cut grasses and and falls un raked leaves are unveiled. In my body old patterns unattended and avoided also appear. There is work a head of me on all fronts: The house, the yard, my thoughts, the animals. Yes everything is begging for my attention. Outside and Inside. Everything.
