Road Rage

The pressure has been building, there's no doubt. As one project/goal/task completes, the endless list of others calls. As energy ramps up into the swirling dance of chaos upon us, it feels like we never cut a break; everything takes effort, time and constancy. The Universe staggers on its course of upheaval and transformation. No one said birth would be easy. No one asked to take it on the chin.

My advent into the pre-dawn day is met now with the back to schoolers, filling the roads with more traffic, more kids, more noisy, nasty sounds and exhaust. I am not a patient person. My philosophy is, if I respect the rules of the road then I have every right to be out on them. You, the bigger faster cars, must look out for me. On the quest for big miles, there is no way sidewalks will do. The open road is my preference always.

Not everyone agrees apparently. I am getting my share of motorists who feel it is their duty to 'school' me. That's when I realize the inner rage, which has been on a low slow boil, is ready to burst. Please, don't get in my way, don't muck up the works, don't pollute my mental field. I am willing to fight for my space, my power, my stand. Do not underestimate my resolve.

The magic at Park over took me as I dug into the rhythm of that long, straight stretch towards home. I was sans ipod, so the chatter in my head kept running the same few song lines over and over. I created a mental image of the pyramid-Holon as well as the space where Ba and Ka overlapped and played with the idea of how moving through that zone creates the mix of energies which helps to pull the etheric into the physical body. Maybe that's another reason why the run is so therapeutic. By the time I passed the last light, I was on point- still striding despite the heat and fatigue. The new shoes, my 'Ghosts', were everything I hoped- better room, greater comfort, and they took me into the last mile with confidence and ease.

I have 2 10 miles loops in a row, solid ones. The rage has settled back into its slow boil, losing some of its steam into sadness and resolution. There is still deep joy at the fingers of dawn greeting me on the initial overpass. And pride when I drag my hopes and dreams back home at the finish. If we keep recognizing how we feel, what we do takes on new meaning. We power our efforts with tears, and sometimes we cannot tell if they are sorrow or joy.