The Weight

On the couch in my corner pen here. My love seat, to be accurate. Much love has been had on this couch over the years, and it's kind of funny to find myself sitting on it today. Now.

I don't really use my living room anymore. I feel that it is easing me into smaller spaces so I'll be ready for the Airstream.

Today I heard Mooji say, "Surrender the surrenderer," and I felt as if I were diving into a warm and gentle whirlpool, into which I was merging, disappearing as I fell.

Which of my blogs does this type of writing go on? I felt I'd taxed the Tumblr blog today, and, besides, I like writing here. I like the looks of it when it's printed there on the screen.

So very very body tired lately. To move around and do much of anything, well, it just doesn't happen. A weight to the body.

Did someone say The Weight? We are on the Ramble page, aren't we?

The Weight.

The weight is in the body, the heaviness of not moving. And, yet, it is becoming more and more natural. Less and less noisy. Under-the-weatherness seems to help. How can I fight it if this is what it be?

No feeling to fight. The fighting wore itself out.

The wait.

For what?

I have waited for answers to what? I feel as if I'm in a new experience. Not quite used to it, but very excited about it. Giddy almost. So strange.

Does this belong on this page?

I guess it is a meander. Or a ramble.