road to sunrise at mt. rainier, 19 august 2007
I am up early. Too many thoughts whirling, whirling in my head to allow sleep in. Although my eyes are tired and my mind a bit fuzzy, it feels like a blessing to have this time as dawn begins to stretch. The rain is falling with a fierce need to water our world. It splats on the roof with drips and drops. It is my companion as I wrestle with melancholy and sleepiness and hope and hunger. It seems to lack rhythm in its ferocity. But, if you stop typing, thinking, fearing, whirling for a moment, you can hear its tempo. I can hear its tempo. For a moment I consider walking outside and standing in it. My clothing would quickly stick to me; my shirt transparent and clinging. My long hair would plaster to me; my feet would sink into mud. As reality reminds, I know I would become quite cold. Not the best idea when you need to get back to bed for a few more hours sleep to prevent illness and crabbiness and general fogging of the mind. A welcome idea all the same. A quiet, welcome idea. Maybe it is the earth mermaid in me singing her song. Yesterday, someone googled gypsy girl walking a tight rope and arrived at my blog. I love that. Of course, I hadn't yet written those words together as google does what google does and takes people places they do or do not want to find themselves. Still, I find it amusing and healing to read those words together and think about a connection to this sleepy, foggy person who is me. I imagine myself in a patchwork skirt, white peasant shirt with poofy sleeves, a charm bracelet on one arm and bangles on the other, three rings on my right hand and two on my left — silver and turquoise and amethyst, strings of pink and green and blue and yellow beads around my neck, orange and white striped over-the-knee socks and little fuchsia pink ballet shoes, standing arms outstretched, high above the world, head forward, eyes soft and determined, putting one foot in front of the other, reminding myself that there is no need to look down.