Today it was the rain

Posted by Erin on 24th July 2010 in Erin's Thoughts

I woke up in the calm of her house feeling a deep gratitude for this friendship.  Later I tell her, “I love how we weather a storm together.  You’re the perfect travel partner for the tumultuous times in my life.”

The space to talk, to laugh, to be alone and then to come together in whatever staccato rhythm the needs falls in, to fall absolutely apart and then be whole a second later without reproach.  Taking those first shaky steps with a new confidence with a friend like this is a profound blessing.  To be able to remind each other of what is our best in us and call it out when it sinks under the torments again.

“I just feel nauseas again – why this minute?  what is it about right now that it would suddenly come over me?” I lament.  We’re eating breakfast.  Well, I’m trying to anyway.

“Free floating anxiety….”  she understands, has had it floating around her freely so badly at times in her life her body would sieze around it and take her words away. “Write – take your journal out and write, right now.”

It takes me a second to process that she’s being literal and instructive before I pull out my journal and give the feeling words.  Giving it a voice softens it in me and as I’m writing, at the breakfast table, in the middle of a conversation I remember that I used to need to write that badly all the time – catch every little thought in a net of words. It was how I prayed.  It was how I absorbed the glory and wonder of everything I could take in.  It wasn’t about waiting for a writing mood or a poetic thing to occur to me, it was the simple urge to describe the breakfast table while breakfast was being eaten. And I don’t mean I remembered in the form of a memory of me doing this in the past, but that my body re- membered – put the pieces back together in me.  The feeling of doing it and supporting myself in that way was right there in that moment, intact.

Something very clenched and strained in me took a deep breath and let go a little.

After I go home to my own space – a space cleared out and more able to accomodate more of the intensity of my passion.

Later we meet to go shopping for leotards and leggings and indulge our unquenchable delight for Aerial silks.  And my  thoughts on how we weather storms becomes literal.  We walk in between rain falls.  Stepping under awnings just as it begins to pour and wait there for the lull, crowding under an umbrella each sacrificing an arm to a lighter rain when we’re between resting stations. Tucking the umbrella away when the rain pauses.  But none of this throwing us off the thread of each other and our conversation.  We just take our cues for movement from the sky . Something about letting the rain set our pace soothes me.

later when we talk about the muscles I need to stretch in order to create certain shapes in the air she tells me about using my breath to time my stretching, being gentle and doing it all the time.

“just take every opportunity to sit in the position that stretches those muscles – all the time.”

and I think that each lean into a new position within myself is like that.  The tug, the resistance.  the feeling of limitation which is sometimes motivating, sometimes frustrating.  Letting each inhale be a pause, a slight letting up.  And each exhale a gentle, controlled push that is just at the edge of that melting when the tension loosens enough for you to get a little deeper. If you push too hard you’re just inviting tearing or cramping and stubbornness that may never yield into suppleness.  I could stretch a compact once or twice a day – or I could take every chance to sit slightly strangely in order to feel that tug and coax it into a stronger and longer muscle so that I can use it to make gorgeous and currently impossible configurations of my body.

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