Bookmarks

I begin with endings. Don’t we all? Doesn’t everything? Something ends in order for another something to begin. Sometimes we cannot go back to what was before although we thought only to put that on hold.

I listen to ‘massage music’ today. All the befores: Dean Everson, Peter Kater, Steve Halpern, Aeoliah…flow from the player, soothing & calm. And familiar. With each one beginning, the muscle memory of folding down a sheet, placing my hands onto a smooth back, rolling down the sides of a spine in a long stroke – effleurage, petrissage, double thumbs. I feel my etheric body leaning into the stroke, fingers rolling along low back, just at the border of the sheet. In the music, I feel the placements, the strokes. I anticipate the change in position, the cover-up, the uncovering. How many of my reactions are simply familiarity asserting a remembrance of posture? After all, I’m sitting in a chair as these play.

I started the day with my favorite activity. In the 4 a.m. time when I wake sometimes a project will surface: I must do this today. When is a good time? I fix my coffee, ritualizing the filter atop the cup, the scoop of coffee, the hotpot burbling to frenzy. Hanna Bell stretches on the coffee table – her new summer-cool spot – she has already said good morning when I came from the bedroom. She’ll chirp until she sees the brush in my hand & I apply it to her smooth, colorful coat. She will emit the tiniest of vibrations, barely that which can be called a purr. She’ll bump her head against my arm & accept the kiss I place between her ears. Sometimes she’ll lie back to accept a belly brush, stretching her paws & flexing them, claws in, claws out as she kneads the air.

This morning I sorted thru a box of cards bought at thrift. I pulled out the “Happy Anniversary!” cards – I know of no anniversaries. I separated the “Congratulations on the New Baby!” cards. Ditto on the blank of new babies. None of the seniors I correspond with are preggers. I stack the “Get Well’s” – keeping some of them. I put the Sympathy cards back, these are the most likely of use along with the birthday greetings. I put the handoffs into a small black bag to return to the thrift which will sell them for 35 cents each. I’m happy these at least have envelopes to turn in too!

I am doing a parasite cleanse which is returning just a shiver of taste & smell to my senses. I notice: Is that cinnamon? Yes! I am smelling cinnamon! I read this might happen. Grateful.

Off to market at 8:00 when Publix opens. Beef bacon – a brand-new tryout. Two jars of pesto on sale. Lately what I do taste is sharp, peppery, pungent, so I indulge.

Today us a no make-up day. An enjoy-the-quiet-Sunday rolling out in front of me like I rolled out the erector spinae by touch. A long stroke of a day, too hot to go outside. A nap-at-one day, a second-cuppa-coffee day.

I keep filching CD’s from the huge book of sleeves holding them. I float. Today is a bookmark: a return to start-point day. A holy day.