Spent a month in the city of subways and rush. Framed in a time that's built on transit. We live in a room that fights for elbows. All the Heads stay down to count the steps taken in a day.
Oh but what beauty in the constant of flux....
To the chaos there is a response of tremendous calm, a subtle kindness. Framed in a time that is infinite- beyond the realm of our first layers of recognition, foresight, prodding. And when you live in a room that begs for space, you have to find it on your own; your elbows must protrude and the shoulder blades wing, I'll give you one guess what happens, then, dear one, to the ribcage, and the lungs it frames and protects. Expansion. And when the head sinks down the chin floats toward the chest in reverence. A grounding in descent. And it's loud everywhere outside of ourselves so we lean in closer to find the quiet, to listen to what the heart has to say.
And a corner becomes your world, and the streets sing to you, and your boots mold to you. You become inconsequential and yet everything all at once. When you finally make your way home at the end of each day a new meaning to ceremony is born. You bend as if in prayer to wash the city off your face, you let the coat drape across the back of a chair. The warmth of you wafts away, out the window you've propped open with cedar block, your scent curls around the streetlamp. You welcome this chill because the kettle is steaming, tea is already on its way.
When you lift your cup, you may breathe in the aroma. Here fragrant plants are worshipped. Somehow you know that you are drinking a cloud; you are drinking the rain. The tea contains the whole universe.
This is how, dear one, you have come to understand the Tao.
You learn to exist in the undercurrents of what it means to lengthen energetically, to settle the heads of the thigh bones deep into their home of the hip socket. There is a deep peace when a joint can realize it's full depth and how that feels to rest comfortably in our own architecture. The skeletal structural shift: how to adapt to the city. How you start to look like the building you are living in, the chair that holds your coat, the sink you lean over- with cupped palms, an offering. There are skeletal subtleties to softness. The inherent etching of ease, right there in the indentations of the collar, the curved lip of the iliac crest.