Sometimes I forget that I exist.
I spent the last several days in bed with a migraine. Everything becomes distant and muffled during these long days and nights. A wide expanse of mist develops between myself and the living, breathing people around me. After a stretch like that it's hard to climb back into the world of sight and sound and movement. It's hard to imagine that it means anything to anyone for me to exist. It's easier to remain invisible. I forget sometimes that I'm not really a ghost haunting my own home, that I'm flesh and blood.
So today I will force my body (with as much kindness as possible) to exercise and move vigorously. I will ask my blood to flow and invite my mind to think. I will go outside to breathe the cool air and bring home food for my family. I'll do many mundane tasks like paying bills and laundry and other such real world activities. As I type these words, I'm remembering that some of the smallest choices are powerful and good. I'm remembering that it's a discipline to be alive, but it's the best discipline of all. And it only takes a series of intentional movements, one after the other, to be resurrected and welcomed back to the earth.
Hello friends. I'm back.