I forgot my yoga mat tonight. So I used a studio one. 15 minutes in, we start the first of many Chataranga’s. I smelled the mat, it had that new mat, just taken out of the plastic smell. That specific smell that only gymnasts are really familiar with, and suddenly I was 10-years-old again. The smell of chalk was coming from somewhere, but it was there, being soaked up by me. It was wonderful, I was in my happy place, the first real gym that wasn’t an old storefront with no heating in the middle of Illinois, or a YMCA gym that had to be built up and broken down every night. The floor was a real floor, spring-based and everything. The leather on the beam, mixed in with the sweat, blood and chalk of every gymnast that came before me. Hard work, and satisfaction in one whiff. Perfection attained by a young body, well before real, physical maturity. Precision and wisdom, well beyond years, with a drive to satisfaction, unequaled by those beyond years. Mmmmmmmmmmm. Heaven.
Day: November 18, 2004
I cried today. Not as many tears as I would have liked, but it was a good release, nonetheless. In the next couple of weeks I’ll be doing some work to facilitate more releases, to purge myself and start new. There is so much clutter inside of me that I need to purge, and things around me I need to pare down. I see my life starting new this year, my plan is to build from the ground up, and not being in the store will help me out with that. There are so many things that I want to include in my lifestyle, and the way I see it in my head. Right now, I can barely make the necessary changes to facilitate my goals.
Death, death comes for me tomorrow night. I welcome it. And I will re-enter this plane prepared and with the skills I need to move on from here. Change is coming, I sense it, like a creature of the wild. But unlike that creature, I will not run from it. Instead, I run towards it.
Interesting, especially given my sudden interest in paring down my collection of “things”
Scorpio for this week:
Materialism is our culture’s dominant ideology. It’s the specious doctrine that physical matter is the only reality and that nothing can be said to exist unless it’s perceivable by our five senses or detected by instruments we’ve created. Paradoxically, the proponents of materialism warn us to be skeptical about all phenomena that they don’t recognize as real, even as they fanatically avoid skepticism about their own fundamentalist assumptions! I urge you to undertake an inquiry into the ways your outlook on the world has been hemmed in by this crippling superstition, Scorpio. Begin immediately. In 2005, you’ll be offered abundant help from spiritual sources. If you’re overly influenced by materialism, you’ll have trouble recognizing and accessing those riches.
Freakchylde's 