I did not sleep enough or well....all week it feels like I'm fighting a deep-down fatigue that seems to emanate from some well of emotional reserve that seeks outlet, and is finding little space to crawl out from the mountain of sadness I get stuck in. I am adopting a "be kind to myself" attitude, and crawled out of bed at 6 determined that a good run would help shake up my system. As I began the slow and creaky jog to the overpass, fingers of pink dawn penetrated the slate-blue night skies, barely lit with a sun soon on the rise. Something about those tendrils of color sent a thrill down my spine; not quite rainbows, but unexpected shots of color nonetheless...they seemed to want to remind me to look up, be prepared for more unexpected surprises to come...
It didn't get any easier. My ankles and feet were protesting and I couldn't find comfortable footing. By the time I hit Park and that long straight stretch towards home, I lost track of time. This has been happening more lately, out on the longer loops, the distortion in my sense of time ballooning the trip to feel like I'm gone half a day, gone to another world, truly lost in space.
Maybe this is my coping mechanism, or maybe the wobble in planetary adjustments means more warping of the space/time continuum all the way around. It wouldn't surprise me to know this is par for the course...and all sentient beings are having challenges in staying grounded while the ever-unfolding transition spins us all around and around.
Those footfalls are meant to hold me and help those bones of mine sync into one another as they traverse the roadways. But sometimes even 3 dimensional flesh and blood is as ephemeral as air, clouded with the colors of our every hope and dream.
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