Sunday, October 25, 2009

October 25, 2009, journal entry, Right-Brained Running Supplies on Glass

5k.

(I am all about costumes these days.)

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The sundresses I have worn this summer in pink, purple, and orange, gold, brown, and green, blue, white, and black, flow to the floor in my office, alongside the bird painting I adore by the New York street painter in oil on canvas, beautiful panels of drapery. I want to drown myself in the sight and feel of these fabrics as the Wheel of Seasons turns and remind myself of how fabulous I feel when I wear them.

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Goddess Schawn’s daughter Miss Ava tells me of her Halloween costume this year, “I want to be a ghost in white but I am afraid I will scare myself.”

She is wise.

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Tomato plants and sunflower stems in gardens have been cut to their base, leaving behind only a few small mounds of red and green-yellow to rot in brown dirt.

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Wind blows leaves down streets, playing squirrels scampering around golden maple trees.

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I ran long yesterday, nine miles, and when I reached for the honey-lemon Halls cough drops in my eggplant-purple Adidas jacket pocket, none could be found. Apparently they dropped from my pocket and tempt me to retrace the steps of my stride as though following the bread crumbs of Hansel and Gretel.

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Pumpkin-colored pine needles that carpet the grey path up the steep hill of Lincoln Park to my hummingbird marsh pond have been swept into round piles that, once again, remind me of turning tomatoes, tree crowns, and pumpkins in their gradation of color.

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Thick sticky lines of spiders’ webs drape from the marsh’s cattails, stitching them together, stem to stem in a fence, the grey sunlight intermittently baring their existence, divulging secrets, but in wind, immediately recanting to grey clouds.

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I love the sundress I wear for today’s costume fundraiser 5k fun run. MY dress in circling swirls of pink, purple, and orange. I love the purple and orange flowers I pin to my hair, the purple satin elbow length gloves, and the purple scarf with silver streams that streak behind me as I run in the 25 degree crisp temperature.

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For most of my life, I have hated my body, tall and slim. Self hate…that clumsy teacher. Yet as I am in my 40th year, I feel wickedly happy, wanting to celebrate a Goddess praise dance in this run.

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I am tall, almost 5’ 10”, and when I wear my Danskos in purple, sparkling paisley, and multi-color yarn velvet, I am close to six feet.

I am not necessarily coordinated and have been known to trip over seams in hardwoods, have dramatic falls leaving my knees tremendously bloody, and have more than once, shown that I lack the graceful coordination needed for beautiful tall basketball players running down the court.

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I am building my house. It is of brick and wood, from foundation to beam, sash to sill, threshold to door, glass window to mirror.

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I am tall, at almost 5’ 10”, and when I wear my Danskos in purple, sparkling paisley, and multi-colored yarn velvet, I am close to six feet.

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Daily, I wear my scarves of bright lime green and purple and grey and my silver jewelry of trees and fairies that say, YES! I AM this, AND so much more.

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I run in my Goddess gown and regalia, and remind myself that my costume, the beautiful outside, glitter and all, joins the inside of me, reminding me that THIS is me.

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Take notice.

This is me.

I am as beautiful as I feel.


Right-Brained Running Supplies on Glass, 10/25/2009

GL, 10/25/2009. Prevail.

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