I Sing the Body Esoteric!

Smoke signals. Distress signals. Emotional signals. We’re supposed to let others know what we are feeling and when we are in danger. Sometimes we don’t know our own signals, the kind under our skin. 

A woman had a seizure in public the other day. Her friends cried, paced, and helplessly pushed their hair back. I don’t know if she was okay, but I thought about her twice more. I thought about her when I heard sirens outside in the evening from the comfort of my bed sheets. I thought of her again moments later when I remembered to take medication - the kind to keep me from emotionally collapsing. 

I was reminded that how we spend our days is how we spend our life. 

I often feel like a floating head, disassociated from a body that stems from a busy and confused mind. 

So I’ll begin to hum now. And when I can, I’ll sing. I’ll sing the body esoteric! My song is my signal, and my crux and my mind will sing in harmony.