Monday, May 30, 2011


I feel fear. Not in an abstract fashion. But right in the middle of my chest. In a tight knot the size of a ping-pong ball. It is stuck in a mass of flesh and bone and struggles to escape, getting caught as it were in a whirligig of deepening complexity and stubborn ire.

I feel tiredness. Where the bottom of my feet meet my ankles. It pulls at my blood and all of it flows downward to coagulate along my calves before trickling dank and dense into the arch of my foot.

I feel doubt. Along the breadth of my palm and my tight knuckles. All over my sinews. On both sides of my chin and the furrows of my brow. In the corner of my eyes.

I feel in unison. I have used words. But I need none. To tell you what I feel. The body is really quite a good barometer. Sometimes I manage to read it.

And then I feel joy. And weightlessness. I don't feel my body. For just a few seconds, there is nothing to read. And this is joy.