Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

Sheer, unadulterated luck.

May 2, 2017

 

It's a marvel, this well, what? I hate the word 'machine.' Hideous and non-living. 'Being' is good, but I use it all the time. This benefactor, maybe. This body is a benefactor and entirely too kind, given my past treatment of it, given my ongoing taking-for-granted of it. At the risk of dripping romanticism around in my wake, I've come to think of this body as a partner in this work of life. And somehow, that tiny, purposeful compartmentalizing makes me feel safer, less alone, less flounder-y, less skin-of-my-teeth-y. 

 

Partner. That's a good word. Advisor, too. Ooh, that's one I'll have to remember the next time I want to haul my eighth wheelbarrow-full of loam at the end of a very long working weekend...

 

The body talks and, man, is she fluent.  

 

 

 

 

 

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