earthquake

I am overwhelmed.

I don't want to believe it, that I can't just steam roll through and experience all with no rest. Let the body squirm, I'll be in love and angry and heart broken as well as meet all new people and sleep in a new place every night and learn a couple new languages and eat new food and learn to surf and snorkel and drive on the left side of the road as well as weed gardens and stack firewood and milk goats and look for a new job and attempt to immigrate to a new country where january and february are summer months. And keep up my running and yoga and reading. No crying. No looking back. No weakness.

How can I take a nap on a beautiful summer day near the city I've been wanting to explore most? But the body is persistent. She wants to hide, to quake, to rain great tears of sorrow at the truths of life. She wants to be held in an infinite web of love and acceptance. And she needs time. So much time.

She doesn't seem to know that we only have so many years. That it slips by quickly and much of it must be counted out for work and sleep. She makes no distinction.

She just wants what she wants, needs what she needs.

She, as if there is a "her" and a "me". Only us. Denial is futile. Resistance is useless.

I am back to eating well. Day after I moved out of a house inhabited by the U.K. and I am feeding like royalty again. Fresh homemade organic butter from local grass-fed cows. Red seaweed and bee pollen, orange yolked eggs and glorious wild caught ocean fish.

Quinoa with greens and Himalayan pink salt.

Stone ground whole wheat bread that is fermented overnight in the making, fresh ground peanut butter, raw goat milk, chevre, whey fed bacon.

There's more, but I'd just be bragging.

Sorry, no long kisses tonight.

These lips are not up to it.

But my heart remains open. I hope it shows. And although the sting is painful, I hope to keep it open long after a wise person would have closed up the gates.