Dangerous Compassions

the pleasure is mine

This morning I woke up.  Always a good thing.  I lay there for a little while.  Ming was already up.  I needed to take a shower and get dressed–we planned to pick apriums at the orchard at 7 with friends, so we needed to leave home by 6:30.

I put my bare feet on the floor, which is wood.  I stood there.  I walked to the door to go to the bathroom.

For some reason, walking felt like a beautiful pleasure.  The sensation of my feet on the floor, the contact, movement.   I felt a deep gratefulness that I can walk.  But mostly it was a physical pleasure, like my feet were holy and sacred, glowing with some pleasure-light.  Just standing, just walking.

Maybe everything was a nice temperature, and I wasn’t feeling pain.  Not sure why this morning felt so different.

It reminds me of how I felt when I could eat again, at the hospital.  I didn’t have food for four days, and then I could eat.  It was amazing.

Picking apriums and apricots with friends was great fun, and some secret green pluots we happened upon were a miracle.  We did that a previous year also, stumbled upon the amazing, sweet green pluots that weren’t advertised or mentioned anywhere.  Wow, what luck.

Doing free yoga on Tuesday, I was looking at my feet, at one point, and I loved them so much, I could cry.  They’re calloused and dry.  The nails are getting too long.  Bit battered by life.  My 42 year old feet have been through a lot.  But they’re still going.  My heros.  Thanks, feet.

Well, I got some good news today.  Someone at a courthouse told me I could send a letter and supporting documents to try to clear something off my record that was put there mistakenly.  Before, I’d been told I had to show up. 

So I wrote the letter, and Ming photocopied all the documents.  I packaged everything up, and Ming sent the large envelope in the mail.  Wish me luck for more good newses.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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