Revolutions

Before I decide whether or not to open my eyes, my brain has already begun. It records the chords emanating from my guts and chatters its first morning notes in tune. Some almost noticed, nearly forgotten song continues. My body hums the melody. The thoughts follow along.

It didn’t begin снощи, nor the day before. Maybe I remember when. Не. Мисля, че забравила съм. И отново: забравям.

This evening the song continues building, a brief crescendo, forte-piano, the bridge and the chorus all at once. Tomorrow morning, the coda; before I decide whether or not to open my eyes, my brain has already begun. My body hums the melody. My thoughts follow along.

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December 22, 2014
The sun keeps swinging the earth around like a shot put about to launch. How long have the moon and I been passing one another unnoticed–day after day–under closed eyes on quiet mornings or cloudy afternoons? We both continue unasked, from fully lit to fully shadowed. Through all the thumbnails in between and round again; and again; and again.

And again. Another cycle continues. Moments for joy, creativity; time for rest, restoration; opportunities to be gentle, to be hard. They come and they go and they come again.

As I awaken, I set my intentions for the moments ahead, ever coming, ever passing, ever going. Today I pause and breathe, try to catch my balance. Locking my sights squarely ahead, I wobble into place, and at least for a moment, stand solid against the earth.