Tag Archives: body language

MANY A TEAR HAS TO FALL

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So I slept on the couch again last night. Easier to prop my head up on the arm rest and a pillow. I did get enough sleep though interrupted by a few coughing episodes. I have stopped using the Zenhale puffer. My cough is less severe, manageable. I did expect that the Zenhale would stop it altogether. Silly me! Nothing is simple and easy.  There are no instant cures.

Meanwhile, my blood pressure is up. It was 190/90 at the doctor’s office the other day. I blamed it to the stress of finding a parking spot and the anticipation of the examine. But it could very well be the inhaler, too. I will try to be patient, lessen my stressors and let time and nature take its course. It is the best healer.

The weather is rocky and stormy. It woke me last night. I heard the wind and saw the filtered street light through the venetians. Then I heard the raindrops on the deck roof. The song started in my head.

Many a tear has to fall
But it’s all, in the game
All in the wonderful game
That we know as love

You have words with him
And your future’s looking dim
But these things
Your heart can rise above
Once in a while he won’t call
But it’s all, in the game
Soon he’ll be there at your side
With a sweet bouquet
And he’ll kiss your lips
And caress your waiting finger tips
And your heart will fly away

Life feels like a game sometimes. I am an unwilling player at the table. I don’t know the rules. I don’t know the dialogue but I can read body language. So like all unwilling players, I am sitting it out, watching. Why won’t THEY  explain how the game is played? Why won’t they speak in a language I can understand? It would give everyone an even playing field.
Ah, but life is never fair. No one wants to reveal their upper hand. It makes me sad but I have no tears to shed. I am happy not to be in the game.

 

BEING BRAVE – BAH HUMBUG!

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I am myself again, ruminating and ranting. I find myself still dwelling over things I’ve said or shouldn’t have said. I see myself wringing and twisting my hands in my mind. Oh, I’m rude! I’ve hurt their feelings! Why couldn’t I have kept my mouth shut? But I’m talking back to this voice in my head. It doesn’t really matter! It’s only my obsessive over-inflated ego thinking what I say have any importance to anyone, especially to three learned professors. Just stop it!

I stopped the voice in my head. The thoughts echo and ricochet off  the edges of my mind. I sat back in my chair and sipped my decaf. It tasted pretty good with coconut milk. I travelled back to yesterday. The room was noisy with music and people chatter, the sounds of what Christmas luncheons are made of. Our salads arrived, then the pork tenderloin. They are making draws for door prizes. My name is called. I won 2 tickets to Persephone Theatre. Someone said that the play Treasure Island is very good. It is being held over.

I’m trying to drown out life’s miseries. They tend to come out and multiply with weddings, funerals and Christmases. I’m feeling very bah humbug this year. This feeling has been increasing each year. Now I’ve reached that crescendo – BAH HUMBUG! I’m exhausted listening to all the complaints of consumerism, blah, blah, blah. Complaints! Complaints! Complaints! And yet with all these complaint the practices are continued year after year. This year I’m stopping all that. I’ve stopped going to church because of all the bad stuff about religion. Now I’ve gone all the way. Now I’m truly brave.

Not that I’m feeling totally comfortable with my new bravery. I see certain looks on people’s faces after I’ve come out – those shifty eyes and uncertain careful voices. People betray alot with body language and facial expressions. I imagine I do, too. I can’t see myself but sometimes I catch my own reflection in others’ reaction. I could be happier if I was dumb and dumber. Ah, you can’t have everything in this world.

If you’ve caught a whisper of sarcasm and bitterness in my words, you got it. I am feeling that. It is my own sarcasm and bitterness, not directed at anyone else. There’s no harm in acknowledging my own feelings. The harm comes from holding them in and squishing them in my own body. There is nothing wrong with not celebrating Christmas. It is not a Chinese tradition though we’ve adopted it over the years. It’s truly a Charlie Brown kind of Christmas and not authenitically ours. I’ve felt like an imposter all these years.

If Christmas is about peace, goodwill and love towards all, I’m all for it. It should be celebrated every day. But do we need all the trappings? If you love ‘all that is Christmas’, it is okay with me, too. I have no objections to how others’ celebrate. I respect that. But the controversies and arguments about Christmas have killed some of that joy for me. That is not to say that I am a total joyless heathen. There is a tiny spark of hope for joy in me. I will bring out my own Bodhi tree. Sheba and I found it in the park last year. I had to fight her for it. There’s history here. It was already dead and no chopping down necessary. We didn’t pay any money for it either. Measuring up is not in our vocabulary.

 

 

BODY POSTURES, BODY EMOTIONS

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It’s exciting to hear that one of my Instagram friends is a nanowrimo winner with her 50,274 words. It is quite a feat. I know that for a fact. I’ve tried a couple of times to write that novel in 30 days and have failed. To win you have to come up with 1,667 words a day. I have trouble coming up with 500. It’s getting easier though. Stretching, trying for more does make a difference.

Talking about excitement, I noticed how my body felt the jubilation at the news. I felt hopeful for myself – that I COULD be a nanowrimo winner, too. I wanted to sit at my keyboard and start writing then. But I was right in the midst of mixing bread dough. Those 1600 some words would have to wait – probably longer than today. I have learned that excitement doesn’t get me very far. Hard work and persistence are the tools.

I’m waiting for the dough to proof. Meanwhile I’m sipping lemon tea and tapping out my meager words. The sun is shining through the windows, warming my back. Sheba is napping on her bed in sunshine. It is still morning. I am changing my routine a bit. Maybe it’ll bring me more productivity. I’m being conscious, paying attention – to everything.

My body betrays me sometimes. I hate it that I am such a truthful person. Life could be easier if I could lie – a little bit even if just to myself. But no, I can’t. I feel so disappointed and annoyed at the inability to accept myself as I am or to change so far. Maybe if I can change my body posture, I can change the way it feels. It doesn’t hurt to investigate and try. Fake it till I make it.

*****

When you change anything, you change everything. I changed my morning routine, now I am not running behind. I’m picking up where I left off. My poofed bread dough, covered by Saran wrap, was in the refrigerator while we went out for lunch. Our lunch was longer than we thought – 3 hours. But it is all is good. The dough is warming up to room temperature on the kitchen island. I’m trying to finish my cast off thoughts here. Sheba got her lunch. Of course, now she is whining for her walk. She can and will wait.

My body now fed, is feeling much better. Food and blood sugar does matter. My thoughts and words are flowing smoother and easier. Life does not feel as heavy or serious. A little yeast helps everything besides the dough to rise. I will savour and remember this feeling. The next time my body gets too serious and rigid, I will remember the effervescence of yeast. I will be resurrected.

The dough is now warm and pliable. I best get on with shaping it into loaves. They will need to be proofed again before baking. Meanwhile Sheba and I can go for our walk. We have time before the bread goes into the oven. She needs chilling.