so I’m laying on my side on a blanket spread out for the baby and she crinkles a plastic Ziplock bag and then whines and then gulp gulps at the milk bottle and then whines and gulps and in between whines I’m thinking about writing and what I’m going to say tomorrow which is now today and then i think about yoga because that’s where I’m focusing more energy lately instead of running since my right knee hurts and I think maybe I should write that the thing about bending backwards for someone and then that thought disappears because my mind thinks the cousin thought which is that the thing about bending backwards is that it opens your heart, and i’m like oh hellllllll yeah it does, that’s brilliant, that’s what i should write because it’s accurate and autobiographical because I’m working on back flexibility.

every morning at 430 i get up and yoga and then write, well actually most mornings its write than yoga because i want to make sure if anything gets skimped on, its yoga not writing, and its not 430, that’s what i aspire to, its 517, but anyway when i’m doing yoga i warm up and then focus on back poses like bow pose and dancers and upward dog, because historically i’ve had terrible back flexibility, always have. but it doesn’t matter about historically, because the sign of a hero is someone who knows their weakness and works on it and i guess I want to be a hero in my own way.

i yoga because it’s good head medicine in the sense that I harbor hopes that it’ll make me chill but this trip home and some other trips kate and i have taken it still takes kate talking to me for twenty minutes almost every day, explaining how normal people feel or think or relate with other humans for me to process it and get there, but anyway there’s sooooo much heart involved in unlearning what we’ve somehow absorbed, isn’t here? i mean there’s so much letting go of deep deep deep fear it’s unreal.

it’s all perspective. like today, we went to the mall of america which is this mecca of consumerism, if you want to look at it that way, but it’s also merely a warm place in a snowy state where you can walk laps without being bundled up, and walking is absolutely necessary in a sedentary holiday season otherwise cabin fever sets in. so yeah, perspective is the secret of the sages.

speaking of perspective, here is the first line of a story i started writing but never finished.

“beauty is everywhere,” the traffic light says, as it changes from yellow to red.

where does the story go from here?

I thought about having the traffic light give a mini-sermon. “keep your words soft and sweet, in case you have to eat them. and remember the truth doesn’t fit on a bumper sticker.” but preaching—even for a traffic light— feels so pointless, powerless, so unlistenable. like blah blah blah. that’s why the one-line story sits in a file, unfinished.

anyway. the pillows holding the baby upright are sliding.

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