(I tweaked my lower back going a bit too deep into an upward facing dog Tuesday night so we are both feeling old and broken, alas).
Aquinnah is even more beautiful than I remembered. If you ever want to test the theory that there really is no such thing as time– head to the beach. Hours slip off the edge of the bed. Mornings are whole seasons unto themselves. Days feel like a month of weekends.
To drop into a full experience of ‘beingness’ both thoughts and feelings must be left behind. Hmmm, is that true? Not sure– I’d have to analyze that statement which would require me to engage my brain which has been shoved to the back of the bottom refrigerator drawer to get soft with a bunch of kale, cabbage and mesclun greens.
Instead, I am being with the beach –where waves are both crashing and extending steady calm.
Eleven days since I was last in here — enjoying the contrast from then (working overtime) to now (exploring what it feels like to live inside of a marshmellow) — but mixed in between those two extremes is the ongoing conversation between the two halves of my brain:
I am not enough, I don’t do enough, are you ever going to have your shit together? vs my life is amazing, I am beyond grateful, everything is perfect in this moment
And you thought schizophrenia was just for kids . .
THIS is why there are dogs in the world — for people like me who need to be get down to what is real: rolling in the grass, running on the beach, treats and belly rubs.