This Shape Called Human

Dear Ones, my Beloved recently recommended I read a book called The Art of Is: Improvising as a Way of Life. I am about 60 pages in, and I can tell this will be a book I talk about all the time. The first page gave me chills and almost every page makes me stop and catch my breath in one way or another. I think many first drafts are going to grow from the wonderful things that book is doing to my brain.

Like today’s draft, which was inspired by the constancy of change.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedI sit cross-legged on the couch,the cat tucked into the space by my hip,listening to the birds (louder -- for a moment -- than the morning traffic.)This kind of morning I remember to pause,to breathe,to be fully present and appreciate the now.As I rest here I know,to say I am in the moment is to let it slide through my hands like water,leaving traces in the grooves of my palms,the deepening folds of my skin --my own body evidence of time passing.Even so, traces of this moment slidethrough permeable barriers of body and memory,integrate into the systems we have gatheredinto this shape called human.