I'm learning more about the muscles contained in me these days. In my neck, for instance, which is today encased in an unfortunate tan sweater. The neck of the sweater is making my own feel face-down in sand. But that's just the surface. Yesterday I became aware of what's inside, of my scalene and my levator scapulae muscles. I met them all as I lay, gormless, on a massage table. I wouldn't say that I make an ideal living model for my in-home massage practitioner-in-training, but I will say that I have in the past year lost quite a bit of any previous bashfulness I have had when it comes to my own body. I am aware that I am far from perfect—as body, as soul, as mind—but this does not have to prevent me from feeling whole and comfortable. I am, in my way, beautiful. And so, I don't mind laying bare on the table and letting my roommate's strong fingers search through and under my skin. She always acts as if I'm doing her a favor, but it's kind of in reverse, isn't it?
I was at work for a handful of extra hours yesterday and will be again today. I haven't yet added up minutes or numbers, and they might be alarming, but I can say that somehow I am maintaining a state of calm. The pile-up of missed work because of all the snow is overwhelming and I am not overwhelmed. In a way, this is what I've asked for.
I have had The Beatles' song Julia looping through my head for hours. It can only be helping my appreciation of the lovely in today.
No comments:
Post a Comment