I am so curious what my life will be like August 1. I feel like I’ve thrown myself off a cliff, only, at the same time, I feel like I’m riding a train that is hurtling down foundationally solid tracks. What that means is that I feel like I’m going somewhere fast, only I have no idea where it is. 

No one has ever said to me, Hey, are you a dancer? Even though I’m a massage therapist, I dread the first few minutes of getting a massage because it never fails: the therapist always says to me, Relax.

I have done massage for eighteen years, and I’ve seen all kinds of feet. When people get old and have spent a lifetime wearing shoes, their feet tend to look pale and compressed and the toes look like five cars trying to squeeze through a tunnel. The whole apparatus reminds me of a broken bird.

I am more aware now of the power of language. I am more aware that most things I say are either honey or acid. I think of my words as those substances, and if I’m speaking to you, I try to consider whether I aiming acid or honey at your spirit.

Dr. Mark sent me a text as I was starting to hike. He wrote, “How are you holding up? The next couple of weeks might be tough as you might want to default to old habits.” Boy, was he spot on.

I am chasing several things in the next 93 days. There is the desire for beautiful and regular poops, of course, and there is also What are we capable of doing in our lives? Just how wild can I get? How free? How singularly myself?

Headaches and migraines affect a lot of people, and, I believe, adoptees in particular. I started having migraines in graduate school and they shocked me, the way everything could be fine and then my vision would shatter and I’d have to pull to the side of the road or put down whatever I was doing and cover my eyes and pop a pill and wait until I could see again. 

We silence ourselves in clever and complicated ways, and while getting to silence is the whole point of meditation, silence in a life that never got to fully express itself is a tragedy. 

I love looking at my pictures. I think they are beautiful. They are like little love affairs: I saw you. They are also like little prayers: thank you for existing. 

The very best part though, was last night. I was on the phone and I was talking my head off and I realized the fog I am often talking through was not there. My eyes and head felt clear. It was marvelous.

If I hadn’t made this 93-day thing public, I’d have a mouth full of muffin right now and then tomorrow I’d spend the day with an aching stomach. 

So, thank you for being here. As it is, I have lentil breath and my guts are…calm. 

There is something so joyful and right about being aware that you are in your body. It’s this little prayer you can do, welcoming you into the church of you.