It's always a little like this, post-competition. I rein in the mind-bending madness of having woven four trips to Charlotte into my week, pretending to be a student while instead my thoughts flit with sensation: balance and center and connection. I bring myself back from 180 miles away, ground myself, teach myself how to walk again.
Gratitude, again, for my housemates who came to cheer me. Who brighten my every day. For my team mates at Fuqua, picking up my slack over the weekend. For my dear friends who tell me honestly when I need to take better care of myself. For so many things.. this is another post that may need to wait for the November holiday!
These days, morning light stills on the tree crowns, dappled and golden. "I'm happy to be going to class." It's cooler.
I am watching the leaves turn blonde. Watching my car gather the fall of forest debris. As never in California, my skin crawls with time. Don't move faster than this, I tell the air, Let the small discoveries unfurl one cell at a time. Consume me, wholly. Give me the world, seeping into my pores, unknowing what comes next. Leave me ignited and awake to what I do not know.
For the first time since coming here, I've stumbled in my classes over the last two days. Focus, I have to keep telling myself. Focus! But I'm falling asleep in the middle of writing sentences in my notes. Today I come back to the house instead of going to the library in the afternoon: Recoup. Gather the forces. Hunker down. Slowly, quietly, move forward.