Friday, June 14, 2013

voice

There are rapids in my thorax. I discovered this while being held by a quiet German woman named Ilse, crying into her breast, being held like I have no memory of being held. Magically, she adjusted me onto my feet and I experienced the possibility of being held while upright. Being held, as opposed to holding myself. So what holds me? This week, the answer is: the river that runs through me.

Friday, May 17, 2013

spending time with the dead

Last week, I attempted to practise, for the first time in more than 7 years at least, the Chen Taiji long form. It was going well at first.  As the body memory took over, I remembered being in Mr Xu's basement - the details and directions in that little room from 15 years ago superimposed on the courtyard in the present.  I tried not to celebrate too much, I knew not to jump ahead with my mind. But eventually, it fell apart. I got to the first void in my memory. Then the second. Then the whole thing came tumbling down. Still, I felt I had spent a little time with Mr Xu.

Today, I tried again.

I got past the first void, managed to get a little further today before it dissipated. I have hopes that it will all come back to me eventually. I just have to relax into it.

This is how you resuscitate the dead. By resting in the present.

Friday, March 15, 2013

grace

The gentle weight of a 14 year-old boy's head on one's shoulder heals the heart of any ills.