Le tonnerre – thunder – is rumbling heavily, fast approaching. It is as if someone is rolling around bones above or moving a grand piano from one celestial room to another. It can happen sometimes with the heat in Provence where the pressure will build until loose, messy storms break out. They are predicted for today, have been predicted since morning actually but it was only a little while ago that I picked my head up from an article I am working on to notice that the sky had darkened and the swallows were swooping extra low. So I fed the dogs early and took them out just in case. My espadrilles are broken in to the point of being broken and so I have to pick myself carefully along the rock-strewn path. Sapphire-bodied dragonflies hovered like drones over powderpuff clover, wings beating so fast as to be invisible. I closed my eyes for just a moment to feel the breeze skimming across the beads of perspiration on my forehead but then another boom rang out, closer, and Ben, my sweetest Golden, looked at me with eyes shining in panic so we stepped up the pace home.
Despite the heat, I had stepped back on the yoga mat this morning. Just pointing my red-tipped toes towards it and then placing one foot then the next was like slipping into a pool. It is familiar. Somewhere – I think it is my Sister who has it – there is a beaten up, faded photograph of my Mom giving yoga lessons on the front lawn. Robin, my Sister, is doing a pretty good copy of my Mom’s pose but me, the littlest and probably only five at the time was doing something entirely of my own make. I might have added this into my memory but I seem to recall me giggling at how funny I was being. Today I told myself to go slowly, which felt appropriate as if I was parting the thickness of the air with my arms and legs and breath. For you see, it had been quite a while. And this for an act which does me a world of good, one that I usually say strips me down to the best of myself.
Age is not something that I tend to concern myself with much. But lately, my body has been telling me that maybe, just maybe, I need to be a tiny more specific. I am not the only one. My friend DA has written a really excellent piece for the Huffington Post that circles around and pin-pointing some of the same ideas that have been ringing in my head as evasively as the thunder. To me that is some of what the best of this odd internet world can do – a little lineup of gentle pinpricks of thought or ideas – that can help even the most heat-addled of us play connect the dots. So I stepped back on the mat.
Despite the house shutters clanking and the olive tree branches swaying like the sea below my window, I think that the storm has passed us by. I have been sitting next to Ben in the shower of the guest room – his fear fort – for the past fifteen minutes but something imperceptible shifted in the air so I got up to see. The sky is a soft orange in the distance – but in the opposite direction now. Maybe the heat lightning is cracking its whip over there, so quick and passing but I wonder if it is waking something up in someone else’s heart as well.
I love that image about the hills wrapping their arms around you – I bet they are! And I wish that you could spend even more time up there…
I find storms beautiful but having grown up in the Midwest they do freak me out a bit when they are super powerful. And it is SO hard to see with the dogs. There is so little that I can do that is actually effective.
Thank you for the compliment!
Yes!!! Plus you are supposed to teach me how to drive, remember??? 🙂
I am sorry that you are scared of rain and thunder but think it is a good thing that you live where you do so at least you don't have to encounter the big storms very often.
Oh I am so glad – it is the least I can do because your pieces make think and rethink and then come back at a subject again and again…I am so grateful for all that you do.
And yes, dear me it is time to rethink things on my end…
Judi, yes. My boys…*can't even finish that sentence*
I learned the first form when I was 17 or so and it was the bombdiggety!! I love that you do Tai Chi and hope you find your way back to "doing without doing" soon and your muscles will thank you. 🙂
Oh, that final thought just made my heart sink. How glad I am that they found their way to you! I think you know that Kipling is our rescue dog. He usually covers up his fear (towards people, other dogs) by thrashing out (never with us or Ben) but even he came to cuddle up next to me in the guest bath yesterday. It was crowded in there! After I put on some relaxing ambient piano music and it seemed to help them both.
Those petals are at a house that is for sale here that I am fascinated by…
And yes, there is much of Michigan in this current weather. So capricious!! As for seasons, here we have virtually no spring or autumn usually – that is why I really loved our drawn out spring this year.
I like what you say about regrets – but wish that I didn't feel the need to find meaning in everything, all of the time!
Are you when it comes to painting??
Judith, that was beautifully expressed – thank you!!! And proof (if any was needed for it certainly wasn't for me) of what a fine writer you are. But I understand. Just like with my yoga, there are phases for everything. I have wondered where your blog has been though and am sure I am not the only one! And I agree, you just have to keep going. I had no idea what I was going to write yesterday but knew that I wanted to stick to my Tuesday and Friday posting as much as possible – glad something came out!!
Come and visit. 🙂
Dear Heather, I love your writing. This was one of your best! very poetic and atmospheric!
Hope poor Ben got over his fear soon enough!
Cheers, Deb from Melbourne.