Tonight I trudged up the hill in my wedges. They offset my seat height and leg extension just enough to make a noticeable change in pedaling and effectiveness (though really—I thought wearing wedges would be EFFECTIVE!?). My quads felt like lead weights, my arms like floppy noodles. Have I mentioned I crave and regularly pursue kettlebells and yoga?
Those two things and dinner + two beers preceded my ride home. Sometimes it’s all I can do to trudge home. Exhaustion lets my mind drift, my thoughts and eyes wander, and a beautiful stillness creeps in my body. Often times I forget I’m even chugging up a hill, breathing steadily and slowly with the occasional look over my shoulder…
Now on the porch swing, my eyes catch my neighbor walking by with the dogs. I hear the buzz of two mountain bikers’ wheels as they whiz down the hill. The birds next door are likely chirping in excitement at the almost-ripe blackberries they’ll likely eat all of, tomorrow…
All the while the chain on the porch swing creaks as I move slowly in circles. I’m lucky to experience this moment and only this moment.
I leave you with this beautiful blog entry from elephant journal:
I still wish on stars, sometimes.
When one is not enough I wish on constellations;
(I wish on entire galaxies.)
You can have my wish tonight. I’ll wish it for you.
I wish you passion that slips in through your skin and wakes you, before you’re ready.
I wish you hope that surrounds you and tucks you in at night.
I wish you quiet when you don’t seek it, and noisy when you need it. I wish you a song that slides inside your hips and won’t be still. I wish you a laugh that throws your head back and refuses to be contained.
I wish you your eight-year-old smile, escaping, in the middle of your important, grown-up day.
(I saw it once peeking out, before you put it away. I know it’s in there.)
I wish you wistful wanting that goes unfulfilled…for awhile.
I wish all your jagged edges washed smooth by tears that come from laughing too hard and too long; from beauty that makes them spill out without your permission.
I wish you forgetting. I wish the ink of your old hurts faded, weathered by the sun, until you can’t read them anymore.
I wish you a dream that sinks its teeth into you and won’t let go. That interrupts your plans. That keeps you up at night.
I wish you a heart that aches from stretching in undiscovered places.
I wish you more, and again more, and yes still more: love.