I try and relax on the couch, in this ever-silent house, and it’s as if my anxiety is boiling over. I can’t get comfortable, and I can’t even relax.
It’s a common problem, I face it several times a week, though I’m never exactly sure when it’s going to happen. Sort of like when the intense grief sneaks up on me. I’m okay one moment, and then all of a sudden I find myself driving somewhere, crying at the top of my lungs, screaming for Luca. Wondering if the people in the cars around me are noticing the woman disintegrating in the car next to them.
Tonight I decided to do something different with the frustration. I got up, lit a candle at Luca’s altar, I unrolled my mat in the spare room, lit frankincense, put on my playlist, and moved.
I gave myself a class. I lead in with songs from Luca’s playlist, warming up, and then starting my sun salutations with “Stay”. It was a beautiful flow.
“All along it was a fever”
reaching my arms up to the sky, folding forward, flat back, folding forward again
“a cold sweat hot headed believer”
foot back, inhale crescent lunge, exhale hands down
“I threw my hands in the air and said “show me something.”
strong arms, chataranga, upward dog, downward dog.
“He said, “If you dare, come a little closer.”
crescent lunge, exhale hands down, feet together, fold forward
And by the time I had gotten through that side, I realized I was dancing. I was moving to my breath, to the lyrics, to the music, and I was dancing this song for Luca. Every time I lifted up into my crescent lunge, and my arms lifted into the sky, I felt the beauty of my own movement, the way my arms swung up, so timed with the lyrics.
up. down. inhale. exhale.
“It’s not much of a life you’re living
It’s not just something you take–it’s given”
up. down. inhale, exhale.
“Round and around and around and around we go
Oh now, tell me now, tell me now, tell me now you know.”
Dancing through each movement, breathing him in.
Eyes welling up with the salty stagnant tears. Moving. Stretching. Feeling the strength of my body, and feeling my breath lead me into the next pose, the next dance step.
Driven by love. By intention. By trust.
I taught myself something tonight, and I’m grateful for the lesson.