I am learning how to use breath as a bridge between the processes I can and cannot control. I am suspended between automated habit and conscious intent on a trapeze of purpose and accident. I am training my impulsive heart to sit in tranquility instead of running away, to be patient and discerning rather than hasty and indulgent. I am rebuilding my visceral canals so light can permeate my bloodstream. I am rerouting my neuronal highways so the path from A to D stops skipping over the sights held at B and C and everything else in between. I am repaving the roads so thoughts stop getting stuck in potholes revving their engines fuming exhaust over the sky. I am reminding myself to be gentle, to reach for understanding before frustration, to take my perceptions with a grain of salt and a second {and third, and fourth} look after I've stepped back. I am regrowing the recognition of truth and positivity amongst thorny storm clouds, re-establishing the detection of poison-laden sweets and crowds. I am slow in learning, but quick to try again - recurrently re-working, re-claiming, and reminding. I am in a continuous cycle of dismantling and transformation - never who I was a minute ago, and not yet who I will become in the moments to follow. I am tiptoeing the tightrope of letting go and embracing possibility, delicately dancing along the divide of singularity and infinite expansion of being, flirting with disaster and divinity, and dining with my ego-death.
My city is under constant reconstruction, but the scaffolding doesn't shroud the sculptures soaring through the sky.