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(Pre-Script: This post will feel like you've been pummeled by an unexpected wave when read as the song, "Healing Begins," #67 on the playlist, plays in the background. Go down to the playlist, click on that song, then come back and resume reading. I'll wait...)
(...still waiting...)
(...still waiting...)Salt water is good for cleansing wounds and the preservation of things. I guess it makes your wounds more flavorful, too, if you are the type to lick them. Dogs do that. I wonder if they have an inexplicable knowledge that there is healing medicine in their saliva or if they just do it because they are dogs, and dogs like to lick things. And most of all they like to lick themselves because they are their own most favorite things.
I think that a vigorous workout has the same effect on a body as a good hard cry. My body is dripping with the tears when my eyes are not. I am refreshed on some level, feeling in my heart the intensity of the ache on another as the water pours out of me, cleansing from within. But it's gross too and I have to wash it off. My face is bright red and beating with a pulse. My entire head is reminding me that it is alive. My legs take me far, and farther each day. From what am I running, to what am I going? The sand is good for joints. I can run and listen to the crash and crash and crash of the waves on the shore, and think, "I know how that feels"
The ocean is completely salt water. What's it preserving, what's it grieving over? How many stones and shells are hidden in it's depths? What sort of beautiful and terrifying things achingly delicate and graceful, and horrifically huge and clumsy, are lurking or floating about therein? There is a stone, and a shell, and I have a stone inside of my own chest, with names written there on, and and I have a shell too, and something used to live inside of it.
I think all of this and keep running and running, my body keeps pumping and pumping the tears my eyes were too small to express.
People like to ask "how far did you run?" The answer is always, "I ran the whole way."
I think that a vigorous workout has the same effect on a body as a good hard cry. My body is dripping with the tears when my eyes are not. I am refreshed on some level, feeling in my heart the intensity of the ache on another as the water pours out of me, cleansing from within. But it's gross too and I have to wash it off. My face is bright red and beating with a pulse. My entire head is reminding me that it is alive. My legs take me far, and farther each day. From what am I running, to what am I going? The sand is good for joints. I can run and listen to the crash and crash and crash of the waves on the shore, and think, "I know how that feels"
The ocean is completely salt water. What's it preserving, what's it grieving over? How many stones and shells are hidden in it's depths? What sort of beautiful and terrifying things achingly delicate and graceful, and horrifically huge and clumsy, are lurking or floating about therein? There is a stone, and a shell, and I have a stone inside of my own chest, with names written there on, and and I have a shell too, and something used to live inside of it.
I think all of this and keep running and running, my body keeps pumping and pumping the tears my eyes were too small to express.
People like to ask "how far did you run?" The answer is always, "I ran the whole way."
-XOXO,
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