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this body is a changing

It started with my eyes.  I couldn’t read the small print anymore.  It took my surprise; it still takes me by surprise..even after having bought the two pairs of reading glasses.  I try not not wear the glasses; I do eye yoga..but still it matters little. My eyes just aren’t the same.

Next it was my feet.  Sore and constantly popping.  I have a nagging feeling that my big toe is jammed.  This has worked its way up to my hips and back, through my shoulder blades and right to the base of my skull.  Maybe it has happened the other way around.  I could just as easily say this all started at C1 and slowly worked it way down to my feet.

The progression of these events is of little interest to me at this point.  My body is changing and I have to deal with it.  I can’t eat whatever I want; my skin needs better care and protection; I can’t run as far and as fast as I could a few years ago.  But then again, I don’t really want to.  What is it that I want?

I want to age with a bit of dignity.  I want a reasonable amount of respect for my years not all of which is based on my physical condition.  I want to dance and bend with little effort until I no longer walk this earth.  I want to feel beautiful…

odalisque

I have long forgotten
what it is I am afraid of
I have lost
objectivity
to simply become
the object.
I buy in
because
it is easier.
I can even follow with
my eyes shut

If I were braver
I would pad my bones
with rounder flesh 
and move new found
curves
in defiance of 
the geometry
of what is
but habit
has been hard to overcome
what is familiar
becomes like a groove
easy to stay in
with sides to pad and comfort
until it is a rut.
my wanting is moving
me away
first in mind,
then in body,
forever in soul

This is February

It is the scent of winter daphne
and the too soon trip to the nursery
it is hope
and apprehension
in a sky so blue
this early in the year
it is knowing that 50 is a
fickle degree…ready to turn and drop
on even less than a dime
it is my daily stroll
with Luka
made without the hesitation
that hounded me last month
it is the quality
of sweet unexpectedness
that is most
what I know
as February

ASANA

TADASANA: mountain pose
      it is essential to master the art of standing correctly
VRKSASANA: tree pose
     tones the muscles and gives one a sense of balance and poise
UTTIHITA TRIKONASANA: extended triangle pose
    tones legs, removes stiffness in legs and hips; relieves backaches and neck sprains,; strengthen the ankles and develops the chest
PARIVRTTA TRIKONASANA: revolved triangle
     tones the thigh, calf, and hamstring muscles; aids spine and back muscles; increase blood flow to spine; expands chest; relieves pain in back; invigorates the abdominal organs; strengthens hip muscles
UTTHITA PARSVAKONASANA: side angle, extended lateral angle pose
     tones ankles, knees, and thighs; reduces fat around the waists and hips; relieves sciatic and arthritis pains; aids in elimination

things that make me happy now

a sunny day in February
sleeping well
time in my garden
coffee with a friend
my hand being held
a message from one of my kids
..from both of them
a long walk
a clean house
a shared meal
music
ideas manifested

Very cool

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_jyXJTlrH0

youth

i remember one summer
the one after my junior year in college
i moved into “the stone house”
next to the bar I worked
right off the campus.
I rented a bed in a room
not the room, just a bed
i had few possessions
really
all were kept in a
military issue duffle bag
I had one set of sheets
and a single towel
does one need any more
than that

Valentine

 “The things that we love tell us what we are.”   St. Thomas Aquinas

this is what I said

listen
listen carefully
suspend your
your ego
open your heart
be glad in
the being
and want only
to be conscious
there is no disappointment
there

view

from the fourth floor
of the university library
I can look into the
lives of others
giving shape
to people
I know only
through the panes
of two windows
distanced by the wide side
of an urban
walk

there is so much
to learn
from the window sill
where empty pots
and art projects rest
a lamp hangs
over the
lifeless stalks
of plants long gone
and a mister
sits forlorn,
nozzle turned
away from its
neglected charges

and there are windows
draped with tidy
linen
and some not
draped at all
others still
have bed sheets
hung in hurries
the press of life
too rushed for any
effort more than that

I dream
of shedding all
my fancies
to pack what’s left
in a single bag..
easy and unattached
to any place
other than a single sill