Be Still and No

"ZERO POINT",  2002,  60"x45",  m/m

"ZERO POINT", 2002, 60"x45", m/m

 

I had a conversation with a friend the other day and he told me he is an adrenaline junkie.  It was exciting to think about as I am from Detroit, Michigan and love cars;  fast cars and big construction equipment for some reason..  Anyway,  when I left him,  I thought:   I remember that ‘me’ who courted danger,  loved a wild ride and was up for doing most anything to shift my state of being from wherever it was to somewhere else.

I love fast but now I am slow.  Movement is very consciously carried out these days.   I keep trying to remember to soften my jaw while I do my day as it grips with the relentless attention to keeping upright with a modicum of grace.   Movement in general has always been critical to my well being.   I love to drive.  I get big things done behind the wheel.   I design,  muse,  have silent (or not) practice conversations,  cheer myself up  and somehow always feel free.   I suppose it’s that ‘long-open-road-American-thing’ but I usually do it by myself and am so grateful for the pleasure.

This love of motion has become an addiction,  I think.   I know,  actually but I can hardly begin thinking about it in that way.  Honestly, it acts as a screen or a veil;  a seductive cover that appears as if I’m doing something but often it is inane errand-doing.   I think I’m running…running FROM something . Sounds so cliche’ but I really have to look here..

As effortless motion is no longer my birthright,  my energy reserves are smaller.  I can no longer just feel the itch to drive north into Georgia O’Keeffe country and spontaneously get that hit of freedom.

So… where does that leave me?

Fast and free is sexy.   Is slow sexy?   How much is cultural habit?  How much is Cathy habit?

 THERE IS GRIEF HERE!  Another little death to contend with but this is a big one for me.   I have used movement  both to get away from myself and to find myself.   Now what?  The stillness scares me somehow.  I suppose this is why a regular meditation practice challenges me.   The biggest part of me knows that EVERYTHING is held in the stillness.  The small me wants to drive.   The big me loves the sense of infinite width in
the silence.  The small me loves the electric hum and air pressing in on me from both sides.  SOMETHING IS HAPPENING!  ..nothing is happening..

The whole conversation makes me so nervous…

Guess I’m close to gold..

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