"How are you feeling?" has been the recurring question of the day. Week. Month...
How am I feeling? Well, let me tell you a story.Two days ago I was at a resale clothing store purging the last of my clothes when I saw a woman pluck up a dress from a nearby rack. Favoring it, she tucked it under her arm and went about her way. This scene made me well up with tears. Wait, what? Yes. The very thought that she will go on with her normal day, and probably drive her normal car to her normal house where she has her own closet full of nice little things (and probably a husband to boot! Probably even children!) led me to feel deep pangs of envy toward the innocent bystander.
Predictable. Comfortable. These are the choice adjectives I assigned to her hypothetical life which led to the tears of (useless) self pity.
I have been waking up with cramps in my stomach, and falling asleep in the looming shadows of crap scattered everywhere. Unfinished projects, parcels to be mailed, accounts to be closed. To do lists. Stacks. Piles. Passwords. Licenses, taxes, insurance. "Are you nervous about decapitation in Mexico?" Oh, and did I mention I fell in love three months ago? Time: what did I ever do to you?!
Consistently later than preferable, I sleep in a full size bed surrounded by "to do" items, gear, and tools. Yes, I had a scandalous affair with a spoke wrench last night. It was less than comfortable. I can do nothing but sigh when the doxycycline maraca chuckles next to me. Thank you Safeway pharmacy. I half sleep walk into the kitchen and eat a spoon full of my roommate's Java Heath ice cream (sorry em). I wish I could claim this to be an isolated incident. Tomorrow I walk away from an office I love and patients I adore, that is a sweet short ride through happy neighborhoods to a house full of the best roommates/family a person could ask for.
The circle that capoeiristas gather to play is called a Roda. It's seen as metaphor for life: struggles, chaos, trickery, challenge, laughter and fear. There are few human situations that shake me more than being watched and/or evaluated by my peers while doing something I struggle with - so - naturally when it comes to the acrobatic, fast moving, high impact art of capoeira it's a challenge (on a good day) to jump in. All the sudden I'm a terrified, broken nine year old again. Please don't watch me. And these people? They don't want you around. Side note: if you're fortunate enough to be a parent, I beg you to never poison your children with this sort of message.
I stand on the fringe. I watch. I wait. I observe and calculate. I make plans. And then, all of the sudden and at the same time after two hours, fear wins. You'll never be good enough. I freeze and choke.
So friends, this is how I feel.
This is why endured the sweat and strain of Benevolent Fist twice a week for years.
This is why I play capoeira.
This is why I'm mounting a bike this Sunday and pedaling.
It's time to grow.
