You know, I made a list of ideals. Some of them arbitrary, born out of the excitement of imagining scenarios involving better selves, possibilities, versions, other people, other futures peopled by other me. One ideal idea was particularly memorable. It involved a greater mind body connection. Have you felt that since high school football try outs? Do you feel that in sex? Have you? Will you? The mind body connect is usually bathed in pseudoscientific auras. In yellow lights bursting out of chests, or mispronounced Buddhist shakras, the translated works of a cross legged man who existed without writing anything down. Pretending to become trees with roots and hearts where owls can rest their whirling necks and hooting and the veins of the tree are your veins the root system plants you, you will not yell timber, you will stay planted because your center of gravity shakra, the red light I told you about, the light of passion, of body, is rooted squarely in equilibrium, balance, correspondence, and so on.
I mean an awareness of body. The mind’s awareness of body. I would love an anatomical yoga class. Slowly stretching muscles, hearing their technical names, uses, functions in other species, size differences, clinical studies, deformities, etc. The psychological benefits of yoga on a slide show while we sit like tree stumps in the lotus position. They give us piles of sand to take notes in. Tiny rakes.
I’ve always been told. If you focus on the body, the health of the body, the mind will follow. This is an inevitable conversion. The reversal not so. Exercise and diet create a chemical conversation with the sorrowful mind, lifting up dopamine to those tired synapses, the microscopic antenna in all of us, bombarded by stimuli or forgotten and neglected because we tend to lean toward habit, to the bending of the same antenna, to the same expectation of neurotransmission, to the same bloodworm as always, but there are infinite possibilities. Surgeons have tried to replace veins. Put in battery operated lungs. Drill behind eye sockets to cease night terrors. But for me they increase.
My body seems farther away from me. I want to know what it can do. I took a ten mile bike ride today, underdressed. Because Burke-Gillman Seattle bike traffic are all suited up straight of fresh and clean REI digs. Don’t care. They look like fools. I wore headphones because I didn’t want to hear “on your left” another goddamn time. They follow the rules. Social contracts penned in gear oil. This is not Lyon. This is rainy day PNW. Also not a run way. Called a “Greenway” by the City. Those cloaked and hiding monsters in the closets of the taller buildings downtown. Slipping envelopes under the door.
The day before I walked from the arboretum to ravenna park. 4 miles or so. What the hell. Wanted to take a stroll. My lungs were sore and I didn’t want the couch to be my tomb.