don’t postpone joy this time
i wish i were better at this.
the whole thing.
waking up in the morning. focus. keeping up with the dog’s shed. holding hands in public, no, being the one who reaches first. new friends. better at slinging off the fog of tired. i am crawling upside down. a crunched jaw. am i eating enough? sleeping enough? resting enough? moving enough to complete my body’s threat cycle? honest enough? do i garden enough? am i ambitious enough? do i slow enough? making enough? completing enough? pushing myself enough? finding joy enough? when i refused to call myself an artist, i was more shy, but now i am more disappointed.
it’s the month i was born, and i had written it down: don’t postpone joy this time. every movement a celebration of every movement. a breath of celebration. embrace color, love, acceptance.
my therapist says i’m so self aware it’s incredible to watch. and i sleep every moment i get the chance. some mornings i am convinced i have experienced all that i need to. content to a fault. i can’t wring the sea foam from my muscles. disappointment and all. if i can’t flail my arms at home is it really home? i have to move.
i am asleep, no dreaming, and apologizing- this isn’t who i really am, is it. hushing my dog’s whines.
this morning i woke up and i planted flower seeds shaped like a snail’s shell.
i visited a perfect apartment, all windows, a black cat’s nose pressed to the screen.
slept all afternoon, wake, heavy, but lingering.
i let the world hold me when i cannot hold it.
i let the barista choose my drink, and it’s perfect.
the moon intercepts the sun rays, and it’s perfect.
a father teaches his son fighting moves in the coffee shop and brings him to his knees,
and we are all giggling, so it’s perfect.
a man leaves his small red car to take a photo of my bumper stickers and send it to someone, smiling, it’s perfect.
i sit at the sidewalk table and every person who walks past meets my eyes, and they wear cool shoes, and that’s perfect.
my dog sniffs at a postwoman with a gray mohawk, and we are all so perfect.
one thing about feeling depressed is that you are allowed to feel depressed anywhere. you can bedrot in a good outfit outside the coffee shop, in the middle of a park, with your dog. let the earth become you, peel back the layers of cloudiness for moments of perfection, moments perfect just because you were there to witness it. it helps.