Riding it.

My hips are still cripplingly painful. But now I'm convinced it's because of my period much more than the running. I could take a fistful of painkillers and make it go away, but that doesn't seem like the right thing to do. So I'm just riding the pain, trying to listen to it.

The massage therapist yesterday said the right side of the body is feminine and the left side of the body is masculine. I'm undecided about what implications this has for the right side of my body going into fits of pain a couple days before my period starts. She said it might just be my body's way of saying, "Slow down." I have always been a clear communicator.

I slept like the dead last night, although I'm not sure if the dead have crazy dreams like I did. One was very unsettling; I can't remember most of the details except at the end of all kinds of disturbing encounters and events, I came home to a terribly, debilitatingly messy house. Isn't the house a metaphor for the self? And I thought I was cleaning up. . . .

I guess there's more work to be done.

On a happy note, I've done a lot of work in the kitchen lately, and it's been joyful. Inspired by new issues of CHOW and Everyday Food that arrived in the mail, I've cooked up all kinds of lovely things to have on hand: Sonoma chicken salad with pecans, poppyseeds, red grapes and celery; broccoli salad with sunflower seeds, red onion, raisins; fresh gazpacho; fresh corn; sweet and spicy red cabbage; and a big old pot of porridge that I eat from every morning with raspberries and almonds. I have rediscovered the joy of cooking and eating lovely, fresh food.

I'm preparing for the days and weeks to come when my time won't be spent at home, and I'll be eating in between classes. Rather than eating crappy cafeteria or fast food, I'll tote my own around, like TTT. She never leaves home without a cooler full of meals. So, it's good to have options already made and on hand.

But this brings me to a quote that struck me when I was a teenager: "How we spend our days is how we spend our lives." I think when people lose sight of this, things can go to hell pretty quickly. I'm trying to be conscious of the moments, and how I'll be spending my days once I return to work. I've decided it has to begin with every new day--I want to be conscious of the promise of each new day and live it fully rather than try to rush through it and the next and the next . . . until the weekend comes. That's no way to spend a lifetime. Certainly not the way I want to spend my life.

So, the amazing thunderstorm kept me in bed this morning--I slept a good 10 hours last night, and today I feel perfectly calm. I decided not to spin this morning, but to luxuriate with breakfast and lounging around in my robe. I think my dream last night has inspired me to take care of some things around the house. I'd like to get my laundry done and set up my office upstairs. I need a comfortable work space. Then I'll get to work on those books and poems Di gave me. I'm looking forward to creating this class that I'll be teaching students and myself.

A cherished student of mine recently emailed me in a panic about beginning a semester away at a program in Philadelphia--a program from which I am an alum. She said her family wasn't supporting the decision to go and she was afraid of what awaits her and fearful that she wouldn't find the money and concerned that her life has no direction (mind you, the child is not yet 20) and she didn't know if she should go. I wrote her back and said the fear of the unknown is powerful because it is unimaginable when some other choice is familiar and safe; but the unknown could just as easily be far more wonderful for the same reason: it is unimaginable. She wrote back and said yeah, this is exactly why I wrote you.

Now I need to take my own advice. Be the teacher and the student for myself.

Trust is the flipside of control, and control is one of my shadow issues. Hopefully by engaging more fully with Trust, I can dismantle the neurosis of my need to control: my body, my eating, my house, my work, the people around me. . . .

I've always believed intuitively that God is within; and that loving an other, loving one's self means recognizing that divine spark within.

The trick is staying with it; being true, being mindful. Today, it feels like I've got it.

Namaste.