Saturday, March 13, 2010

wind in my liver

Spring is close.

The tip of my big toe's been numb for a few weeks now, which is not a harbinger of Spring, per se, but it did prompt me to go in for an hour of bodywork earlier this week, which caused me to revisit a few things, among them some writings of mine from last year, around this time. I found--not surprisingly--that I was in much the same state, of being "under the weather": head full and draining, tired out, flat, stiff and sore, working out seed orders. I'd forgotten that I began a round of massage treatment then, and it was interesting to re-read my notes: same trouble areas, same stuff coming up, same feedback loops. On some of this I made small breakthroughs later in the year, only to be set back again like clockwork. Got to change those gears...

It's always fascinated me how things come to rest in the body, how thoughts and feelings take up space, change the shape of us, our movements, our flesh and blood. And the opposite is also true: the sweep of your arm might change the way you think for the rest of the day, or the rest of your life. In untangling our knots--some of which are simply impossible to un-do without another's touch--it's difficult to tell which came first: the memory or the muscle. Is it the wind in my liver that gives rise to my anger, or has my anger driven that wind?

Equinox is around the bend.

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