And so I sit. Time ticks by and the effects of my treatment seep into my pores, fills my bloodstream and attaches itself to where the pain lies. And so I sit. The sweat drips down my back leisurely making its way down to my pelvis where intermittent pain reminds me of why I am here.
Between the outside world and my room is a set of bars, dividing but protecting. They stop things from getting in (insects excluded) and from me jumping out, though it does not stop my spirit which soars and my mind that floats freely. I dance amongst the smoke of the bonfire and wade across the fields of rice that appear directly outside my window - my destination is the plantations that cover the mountains where fruit grows in abundance and silence is a cacophony of insects looking for their next meal.
And so my body sits, pulling me back from my foray. And it sits a bit longer until it cannot stand the monotony and feels the need to stand, to lie down, to pace the floor, to pretend to dance even though it fails to gain its usual lightness and rhythm - castrated by space, by lack of music but mostly because my body will not allow.
My dancing days seem almost a memory and my mind struggles to understand what my body is saying. Dance with your words, yes! Dance with your dreams, yes! But your body needs to rest, to recuperate, to relax into its own pace. My mind baulks at my body's instruction and has an apparent inability to follow. My mind definitely does not want to be subservient to anyone or thing, certainly nothing so cumbersome as a body.
And so I sit. I watch time drag and then race. I watch birds fly by and hear horns belch in the still humid air. I hear cars grumble, their bellies scraping against the floor, but now my mind is escaping again, drifting - this time it easily jumps over the mountains, across the motherland, traversing continents, cultures, dramas, crimes, births, deaths, rituals; my heart flies way above the clouds, away from all human interaction and moves towards the sun.
And so I sit, but my mind is falling through the atmosphere, guided by my ever present homing instinct. To a certain tower where I have never set my foot upon beside my favourite beach - where the earth sets, where spinach grows and grass crows and the sand has a life of its own.
Every colour of the rainbow, every emotional hue, every step I take, every glimpse at the moon leads me towards my self.
And so I sit - surrounded by traffic, trapped in a cell but gently buffeted by the strumming of a guitar and gentle murmur of conversation. I awake with laughter and sleep with a smile as I traverse the globe of touch and of words. I find universes in a song and dreams in a grain of rice. I find sweetness in chai and in a small Doctor who is willing my body to grow, to be strong and reach out. He will instruct my body so that it obeys my soul's purpose - to find and follow its ever increasing pathways and crossroads.
And I feel the Creator guiding me, protecting and cradling me - calling me to reach my potential through every experience I am given and through every person I meet. Especially, through every conversation created. It introduces me to sights and sounds, to people who will hurt and people who will protect. It shows me love and pain. It helps me to feel the light and the shadow so that I am able to understand all of it, all of who I am.
My hands are my source. They destroy, form and cross bridges - they clarify knowledge and give meaning to my voice which is sometimes weak with hurt, sometimes strong from joy.
And so I sit. Conscious that my eyes are taking everything in - all movement, all expressions - they soak up the longing and intentions, the feelings and thoughts of others.
And so I sit. I feel the heartbeat of every occupant on this floor and as I get up and walk along the corridor I see and feel the movement of each room I pass. I see their energy seep out of the door and gather into a great cloud, mushrooming, growing, making each movement produce a strong musky odour. It's the smell of exile, of isolation, of too many thoughts crowding, pushing, jostling for light and attention. Minds join then separate, crush and then expand in between the mosquitoes and lizards under this Keralan sky.
Now, the sound of slumber reaches my ears. Their minds are set free, in pain but painless. Free from the fetters of the everyday and filled with dream images. Stocking and replenishing.
And so I sit. My body is calling and my body seeks help. It becomes a slave to routine, it calls to the hands of healers but rebels against any instruction. Determined to be strong, afraid to be called weak.
And so I sit. I walk. I lie down. I try to dance and I watch. I watch life dance whilst my body sits. I watch it caress me then pull itself away. I watch it shake its hips and shimmy in the moonlight and strut its stuff. And I watch it play. And so I sit.
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