I raise my body up at 5:07a to the feelings that I’ve grown accustomed to over several years of Danatude = (solitude mixed in a strong go-it-alone attitude with a marked inflection of radical Dana in a world divided by Pi). Take a circle and look at its diameter and circumference. Divide the latter by the former. You getย ๐, yes, ฯ. A special kind of sadness bursts forth in the attempt to provide a square root of Pi because, well, it’s impossible to square a circle and thus “radical Dana divided by wonderment = the square root of Pi” (the title of my last post here) provides a bit of humor. This is why a tender melancholy will hold me on this day. (Thanks to Buddha Buck for the italicized line above.)
I glide this morning in that safe place (albeit somewhat mundane) that keeps me alone on my mountaintop overlooking the vast sea from where I have sailed for centuries. Historic accomplishments do the tango in my heart as I sip the dark churning waters of java mixed with a bit of maca, cacao, coconut oil, cinnamon, turmeric, cayenne, vanilla, and honey. I turn up the heat a little higher to feel enveloped by the boosted therms to provide a morning hug. Another long working day awaits, this one starting with a lot less snap. I feel slower in my body and mind and will allow the forward movement of this day to be guided by the blood flow from my aorta to all other parts. The excited, racing heart that I’ve recently discovered is taking a necessary break after being in an unusually charged high for a little while.
Yesterday, a vast opening in the clouds pulled me in and I was inspired. I saw two distinctive beams of sunlight escape to the Bay:
Then higher above, a gaping hole emerged where the sun’s rays, liberated briefly, filled the space with light. My heart beamed with this vision. I felt strong and necessary. This was early in the morning sometime around 7:30a.
Days and nights change quickly and one must dance around the myriad inflections of affection from within and without. I have learned to step carefully, be open to the thrill of lightness of being, and to close when time makes a request. The intrepid explorer needs time to digest all that has come before her to rework her inner narrative. She knows this place and the comforts it carries weaving in/out, through, and beyond.
I started writing a new song last night and will work with it over the weekend. A swim in the Bay tomorrow will make me whole. Life remains good.
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