I originally wrote this on the date I assigned to the post, though I am posting it weeks later and backdating it. Just to clear up any possible confusion.
I’m sitting in the corner of Mama’s Royal Cafe in Oakland wishing I had more carefully observed Yelp’s information because there’s no wifi here. Which means I can’t stay as long as I like in the tall white room with yellow light, white walls and dark mint green wood trim. The black and red linoleum tiles turn the space into a checkerboard, but maybe that’s me.
Sitting here, alone at this table I’m contemplating my next move. I don’t mean for the morning wifi hunt (I’ve already decided on that), I mean Life Things.
Of course I mean Life Things. I’ve been hunting my next move for years. And I do keep hunting. Doing. Moving. And I feel as if I’m approaching something. On my bad days it’s a wall. I’m stuck at this wall that just seems to difficult to deconstruct. Or to climb over. On my good days it’s a precipice — a cliff for jump off of? Or an ocean to dive into.
This weekend at Interchange we studied improvisational techniques in counseling. One activity found me eyes closed in front of witness and moving my body in whatever way I felt it tell me. In my stillness I sensed a lot of signals and followed those impulses. One such impulse was to glide through deep water, not as a human. I don’t intend to become a mermaid anytime soon but this sense of freedom was fascinating. Not that mermaids or stingrays are all the way free — they’re still stuck in the water. And I wanted for a moment to comment that at least there’s no resistance in the water.
But that’s wrong. Water is nothing BUT resistance. But it’s the resistance and the creature in the resistance that makes powerful, underwater gliding happen.
So here’s to me uncovering my smooth surfaces, activating my powerful navigation and developing my muscle memory. And gliding.
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