Rolling Stones Gather….

16 11 2009

No moss.

I need to keep rolling so that I wont become cemented here in my equanimity.

Life seems to have been dropping down around me like a thick quilt settling around you after being shaken out, or like the deep indigo clouds looming on the horizon, signaling a hefty storm.

I remember the sense of dread that I had as a child, when I stood at the end of the wooden dock at our cabin on Gull Lake, the wind gusting through my hair, making me squint my eyes against the warmth of it pushing against me. I would stand on the end of the dock, letting the wind lift my hair and toss it around, and I would lean into the wind, letting it cushion me like an embrace from a long-lost friend. Those dark winds signaled a heavy storm rolling in, and I was terrified of thunderstorms, but something about the electricity in the air left me feeling energized, as if the lightning had been harnessed for a moment, then let loose in my body. I savored the metallic taste of that dread and fear and exuberance, rolled it around my tongue like a dark stone that you pick up, place in your mouth and wet with your saliva.

This moment feels like an impending storm, like a quiet that drops down before the winds come. The quiet of this moment will make the rest of the moments to come, the ones tossed by the winds, ripped asunder by charged lightning and slaps of thunder, feel all the more violent when juxtaposed against the quiet of this one moment where I am ten years old, flying in the face of the impending storm.

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