Maybe I make too many jokes about kicking puppies, or perhaps I am slowly letting my playful and carefree nature be beaten down and extinguished, but this morning I awoke from a disturbing dream about a puppy that was killed and literally, swept under the rug. It followed the dream about being in Bloomingdale’s after-hours with my friend, who wanted to pillage everything in the store, and I just wanted to get the heck out of there before we got in trouble. The woman watching us on the security camera belted out over the intercom like the voice of God, “Just get out of the store and don’t come back you punks!” The most vivid part was how I did not want to be there stealing things at all, so I nervously followed behind lurking, while he thieved. I hope if this dream ever becomes reality, I can successfully convince my friends to leave everything they are taking behind. I don’t always remember my dreams, so in addition to the fact that I not only remembered both of these upon waking the first time at 4am, I also had them in my waking consciousness again at my usual 6:40 wake up call (from the Chalet Girl I had to hire just to make sure I don’t sleep in anymore)
After setting my mind straight with some “wonderful” music, a cup of pitch black Dar Joy Ling tea, and the rest of my book (so long playful nature!), I began to feel a little more like myself. Well, my unwell self that is. It’s been creeping in the past few days, the swelling of my lymph nodes, the sniffling of my nose, the feeling of non-healthfulness, the desire to bang my head against the mirror in the simple attempt to look at myself without a hat on. Despite the garden of vegetables I planted in my room for my own secret stash, and the immunity dance I do every morning while chanting with my incense sticks, I think the winter has finally gotten to the core of me. Maybe I should stop wearing shorts and tank tops outside in sheer and utter denial of what is.
If I were to choose a time to get sick, I would choose February. That is after all what February is about isn’t it? Cleansing and purging out all of the stuff so we can prepare to March on with the rest of our year in all of it’s glory. It’s the month of purification and transition. Breaking down the walls, so that we can rebuild ourselves anew. If a year were a day, February would be 4-6am. Uncomfortable to be awake during it, a little lonely, and at times it can make us feel like no one else is there to face the world along with us. It is however a pivotal time before the morning. The sun is working as hard as it possibly can to shine and warm us, fighting against the very darkness and wind that try to keep it hiding behind the horizon line. I am up and pacing during these dark hours, wringing my hands together as I wait for them to pass.
Julie had plans to take me skiing this morning and show me a new place I could fall flat on my face in front of people, since all the other places have become aware of my reputation as a puppy-kicker and won’t let me in anymore. I was really looking forward to it.
Until this morning, when I began feeling windblown and under the weather. I felt terrible breaking the news to her. Like I was trying to cop out of a good time. Like the hour she spent piling on her long underwear and strapping on her ski pants, was a sheer and utter waste. “It’s not my fault I am a puppy-kicker!” I wanted to exclaim, in attempts to abate her verklempt expression while quietly shoeing yet another puppy under the rug. Fortunately, the weather was on my side and tossing chalets around from here to Oz like Dorothy’s house in a tornado. She informed me after about an hour of my feeling like a soggy piece of bread, that we couldn’t have gone anyway because the winds were so strong the lifts would be shut off. See, I knew Mother Nature and I had a connection!
Sometimes, you just have to listen to your body and do what it needs. Today, I hope that will involve breathing in some harsh, toxic chemicals while I deeply clean the chalet, topped off with a fresh mountain air walk, a three-hour nap, and catching up with my family and friends. This blog is probably about as boring as robbing a bank, so I’m going to keep it this short. Now for some comic relief:
Check out this picture of the lady falling on her skis. Don’t worry I helped her up –twice!
I think I caught Miss Frizzle and her friend walking along the piste de fond yesterday….
Being a camera dork is not easy, but someone has to do it…
The moral of this story is that every now and then, giving your body some wintry peace and quiet can be a day at the beach. A much- needed vacation. No need to beat yourself up for respecting the rhythm of life. If you don’t have feel a connection to the moon, stars, hug every tree you see, and never sway in your constitution –disregard this message and go get a job on Wall Street.
Now if only I find that pina colada I left by my palm tree, sunglasses, flip-flops and towel….
Painting wishes and dreams across the sky like shooting stars,
— Emily —