Upside-Down

Inversion Workshop, 2:30-4:30pm, Mary Dana

(written before class)

Something has washed me this morning
and the building opposite also
is washed
in sun squares and winter wind

I fill notebooks and he reads the paper
we are tired
and impatient with each other
I tell him I hate it
when I feel like he's putting up with me
"No, I love it" he says
and we go back to our papers

Across from us I watch a mother
smiling down at her infant daughter
they just sit like that
across from each other
smiling

It has been called the bliss body
it has been called nirvana and samsara
it has been called the flow and the source
it has been called inspiration
and ecstasy and most often, love,
it has been called
and to some it lies at the center of the heart
and to some it lies in the center of the belly
and to some it is Chi and to some
the Holy Spirit and to some just firings
of several neurons and to some,
it is a mystery which needs no naming

I hunt and peck and hunt and peck
I devour texts and dive in
my body twisted into a hundred red shapes
hoping with each one
I will break the surface of the water
and submerge
and not, no, never
need to come up for air again
(where some bubbles rise
and pop
with small squeals of delight)

If I could fill a suitcase, I think,
with every impediment
drop it at a bus station and walk away...
But just the thought of counting
all the weights to be untied
only makes them seem heavier
more solid
and every knot grows infinitely
more knotted

But (bubbles breaking)
there is another way.
It is not to rid of, to fix, to alter, to repair--
not these constant messages
each one spelling:
Something. Is. Awry.

There is another way