serinde

I was feeling pretty troubled yesterday, and so in spite of chilly grey threatening-ness, I took my usual lunchtime walk down to the East River. (For lo, I have thwarted Robert Fucking Moses, and discovered the three nearest pedestrian bridges over the FDR Drive that grant one access to the proto-greenway next to the water.) I do like watching water on a cold overcast day, I don't know why, and the East River was particularly pleasing then--moving quicker than usual, with higher waves, and that bleak shade of grey with a hint of blue.

Since I was late, I wasn't going to walk along it, just lean on the railing and watch the water for a bit. And I was much knotted-up inside, and I stared out over the river hoping to get a bit of ease, but I just kept feeling like my mind and emotions were clenched hard around the trouble. Then I laughed, because I suddenly realized that it is just like aikido: the harder you grasp, the worse it is for you; you have to hold lightly, and move with whatever energies are at work, and find harmony.

I let go inside, and opened up, feeling as if the wind was actually blowing right through me, cleaning away my doubts and fears; and I resolved to move with harmony and do what I knew to be right, which is what harmony is for me, much of the time--and also realized that this is as close to a prayer as anything I have ever offered since I was a little kid dutifully parading to church every Sunday, to ask favors of a big kindly sky-father with long beard and white robe.

The troubles and worries returned, as they do. There is no magic bullet. But as long as I can find the peace of the turbulent river, I think I should be better able to manage them.