Sunday, January 24, 2010

January Rainfall

Total darkness. Total silence ... but for the sound of rain falling, falling, falling into forever.

Rain? It's late January in northwestern Wisconsin. As usual, we're thoroughly covered and caked in snow and this rain--as soon as it freezes--will add a layer of icing that covers everything in its slippery smooth glaze. (Hmmm. I'm unsure how I'll get down--or up--my quarter-mile driveway once the temperature dips slightly....)
What would the world be, once bereft
Of wet and of wildness? Let them be left,
O let them be left, wildness and wet,
Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.
               Gerard Manley Hopkins
               From: Earth Prayers, p. 154
I play one of Marina Raye's CDs as I write my blog. I want to revisit the feel of the season: "Snow Falling on Silence," "Delicious Silence," and "Deep Peace" (the names for several of her selections on this compilation of native flute and Paraguayan harp). I have to admit, though, that rain sounding on our metal roof provides a wonderful tempo for this morning's practice. It soothes and slows me as I move gracefully from Rocking Motion to Bird and on.

Today I pay attention to how my back leg straightens as I shift weight forward. Then, again, to how and when my back knee softens, facilitating weight flow backward. I watch the reflection of my long underwear-covered leg as it straightens and bends, straightens and bends.

There's a certain comfort in this on-going examination of the form. It is never perfect. But it offers me opportunities to pay attention ... make improvements. It requires of me that I simply feel what my body feels as it shifts and moves, rocks and dips, rises and sinks....

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