Some times I can feel my bones straining under the weight of my thoughts. And that’s wrong, all wrong, so I strain more in the down dog position, where my arms and wrists and shoulders take on the weight of my trunk.
My trunk. What a word for my body, which is pack full of multi-grain toast this morning, as well as three cups of hot green tea that have not found a way to warm my too-cold fingers as I type about my bones.
But the heaviest weight is definitely my thoughts.
My head pulses with the thrum of an ache. A head ache, which should be soothed by a warm bath laced with lavender bubbles and a good steamy book. Instead, I pose in the down dog and think of my weighty thoughts.
Are there such a thing as light thoughts? I ask, lightly.
A light thought – um what’s for dinner tonight, is that light enough? But then I worry about going to the grocery store and wearing a heavy winter coat in April, while I’d prefer to be scattering daisy pedals over a garden path full of roses and petunias, but instead, I shovel out the snow in the front landscaping, hoping for a glimpse of a purple crocus.
See? Weighty cold thoughts on a Friday morning.
Light, light, ummm….
As light as my earlobes are, and as light as my soul can be when it flits about daintily during happy times (like walking in the hot sun, or hugging a warm grandbaby), my thoughts seem to never be light.
Even here. Because now I wonder, is child’s pose a giving up? Or is child’s pose a giving in to gravity and the sweet seduction of letting go?
But is gravity the reason our thoughts are so heavy?
How heavy are your thoughts?
(This post was inspired by the quote by Jonathan Safran Foer Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close: “Sometimes I can feel my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I’m not living.”)
Pictures thanks to Google Images, except for my little crocus. That’s mine.