Awaken the Senses~

I am what most people would call a "morning person." Love them (Or hate them), "morning people" are generally known for greeting the day with gusto! Hutzpah! Fanfare! Razzamatazz! (And if you are one of these chosen few, and it just so happens to be before noon as you are presently perusing this blog, then please do feel free to insert whatever * dazzling * emotion you are presently rockin' out here___________.)

This morning, however, was different. I woke up feeling...nothing. The eager anticipation of demolishing my "To See" list here in Barcelona, coupled with my darned diligence and frightening efficiency and go get 'em mentality, had seen to it that I had no plan or desired destination for this particular day whatsoever.

I thought to get up...* Meh *... (The day can wait). I thought of taking a shower...* Meh *...(Hygiene is sooo overrated I tell myself). I thought of making breakfast...* Meh * (Pancakes for one? No Thanks). I thought of calling home...*AAAAAND we have motion! * fanfare! *...rolls...slowly...grunts...rolls...thud. Pad, pad, pad...scuffle, scuffle....hum....dials...and, yes...*home*.

Home caught me up with their day(s), and home asked me about mine. Home shared with me, and home received my share in return. Home recognized my loneliness, and home met me in that ache. Home helped me to remember, yet reminded me in whispers sweetly of the blessed now. Yes, home got me out of that bed. And then...home lit a fire under my a** (with love of course). "Do you feel that?" I felt like I was being asked. "No" I replied....still numb. "Well then, FEEL this..." (a small nudge....okay, what then became a firm push, out the door).

The sunlight was blinding....I felt its warmth. Placing one leaden foot before the other, I stumbled towards the sea. I could sense the strain of my leg muscles with each new stride; the contraction of my calves with every step...I felt motion.

On the boardwalk, the waves of bikers blow past me...I feel the wind left by their wake gently rock my frame.

The adoring couple, unapologetic in their open affections...I feel connection.

The raucous children, launched into spastic motion with such eagerness and enthusiasm, trill their tinkling laughter--a holy chorus of angels more heavenly and spiritual than any church choir these ears have ever heard. I feel cleansed.

The nude sunbathers, baring all. I feel the heat of solar energy; its reflection dancing among their flawed, yet beautiful forms.

I feel it all. It is closing in around me...squeezing me until I cannot do anything but focus on each new breath. Pulsating. Throbbing. Bubbling up and spilling over. Unable to be contained within the vacuumed void of numbness, it will not be deterred.

I feel *life.*

I see it being lived.

I hear the beating of my own heart...in response and humbled recognition.

I taste the sweetness of partaking.

I touch upon truth.

~Awakened~

Funk-y~

I woke up this morning and was met with warmth and sunshine. I knew today was the day for my Parc Guell. I dressed with trembling excitement…fingers fumbling over zippers, buttons and laces; distracted by what laid ahead. Then…realization—I am alone. This beautiful, blissful experience…el solo~

I slumped back down on my bed and contemplated (not gonna lie….for at LEAST 5 good minutes) burrowing back under the covers in an Eeyore-esque pile of goo. Can we say funk?

I glanced over at my bag—my trusty little camera peeking out at me. I saw her eyeing me, judging me, taunting me in her cheery little chirp: “Pile of Funk!” “Pile of Funk!”…

I giggled despite myself (fully intending to wallow in my loneliness and “woe is me” mentality, thank you very much…) and dragged my arse across the room to pick her up gently. She hummed to life and began a delightful dance through the days of my past, stepping gracefully to the trilling tunes stored in her memory—the waters of home, baking/barista beauties, lions in winter, communal cups of coffee, bonfires with brothers, swimming with sisters, best friend beauticians, sunrises with mothers at Kahana Bay, English nerds, Club dancing divas, Contra comrades, bands of bikers, and Hawaiian hippies. Tears of remembrance and fullness stung my eyes.

I gingerly placed you all in the palm of my hand…grateful fingers stretching to receive the full beauty and breath of you. I curled my tiny fist around you tightly…and held on.

We go~

And to the loneliness and “el solo” mentality?..........

“ Funk That”~

Tears of Recognition~

I cried today.

I cried not when I awoke thousands of miles from home.

I cried not when my bare feet (so used to the Hawaiian warmth) hit the cold, marble floor.

I cried not when my greeting to the flat’s concierge faded into the air unmet.

I cried not when the front door opened to a decibel of howling wind that only dogs, or perhaps bats could intelligibly decipher.

I cried not when the taxicab blared its horn at my apparent inadequacy in crossing the road in a timely manner.

I cried not when the waitress at the restaurant refused to serve me, as I could not order in “proper Spanish.”

I cried not when the next waiter barely met my eye, as I seem to serve only in being an unwanted nuisance here...damn tourist.

I cried not when the "toast" I ordered really turned out to be something with ham and a yellowish sauce of sorts…on top of um, bread (I think).

I cried not when I left the café starving, too proud to return the unknown something in order to get what I really wanted.

I cried not when I, on my morning run, passed by the fellowjoggers, who I realized sadly were not my “fellow” anythings.

I cried not when my legs began to burn, my exhausted physical body beginning to slowly match the state of my weary heart and emotions.

I cried not when I stopped to watch the sea, my lungs seering in pain…protesting angrily at the pace I had pushed upon them.

Old man, off to my right. I catch a glimpse of you. Small in stature you appear to be….yet after my morning…you are menacing. Dare I meet your gaze…and risk my soft, thin skin being bruised yet again? I turn, despite my better judgment. I see you. You offer me not a smile….not even a full look in the eye…but you tip your hat to me—a slight nod of your head….recognition that I AM.

I cried today.

All Clear~

Oh, this morning! Oh, this morning!

I woke up with the sun. "Merry Christmas!" was on my lips and a smile adorned my cheeks. *Cue crashing realization that I, indeed, was scheduled to work today.* --Shoulders Sag--Audible Sigh (okay, maybe it was more like an agonized groan)--Hands on Hip--and yes, there was also one (or two?) stamped feet. Oh, this Morning! Ugh, this morning!

As I scanned the room, what would catch my eye but my Ziploc full o' zazzle! I clutched desperately for the small pouch of glitter (the one that I keep on hand for such times as this....you know, those dire emergencies...) Oh, salvation of sparkle! --Do please redeem my bad attitude from this pit of self pity~ (And it did!) I decided to take it one step further and go all out (none of you should be surprised by this one bit), as I rocked the festive green and gold glitter tagteam today....so I pretty much (if we are using our imaginations--having the red hair, coupled with the green and gold glow--was my own friggin' Christmas ornament!) Oh, this morning! Glow, this morning!

At work the patrons were in full holiday spirit. The families file through the gallery...fathers holding their children's hands, babies clutching their mothers and napping in their strollers. All are jolly and bright, out and about after a sweet time of togetherness unwrapping gifts, reading the Christmas story and discovering who Santa deemed "good" this year. The gush of good spirits is overwhelming, rushing over me like a tidal wave. It is beautiful to see. It is painful to feel. Oh, this Morning. Alone, This morning.

I could sense tiny tears pooling at the corners of my eyes. I quickly reached up to paw away the proof of my self-indulgent "sorrow." As I looked down at my hands again, I see I have smudged my glitter....I was covered in resplendent sparkles, but all I could see was green. Oh, this Morning. Low, this morning.

I asked myself if I was indeed, my own little version of the "green eyed monster"...was it jealousy that was presently creeping its way in and blackening my heart? Not exactly....but I wanted to place what was bothering me. I was not begrudging of the people their time shared in rest and vacation with their families and loved ones, nor was I angered by the fact that I was having to work on Christmas day. No, I realized that what I was envious of, was that all of those people coming through those doors, once they bought their pastries and drinks, would make their way home together. For the first time this day I realized that the sights and sounds that were assaulting my eyes were not the people themselves, but rather what they symbolized to my heart....*home.* I looked around at the girls I work with--the fatigue that furrowed each brow--the frustration of finding themselves taken away from loved ones in order to serve strangers--yet, simultaneously, upon closer examination, I also witnessed the team effort and human spirit that rallied as each sought to stave off the spirit of negativity in order to bless and love all who entered in to their small sphere of influence. I saw in this moment, that we were all in this together...and that joy and peace was *and had to be* within each of us. Oh, this morning. Home, this morning.

I left work and got to my apartment. It had been a long day...yet a good one. I walked into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. I bent my face towards the water and felt its cool, cleansing kiss upon my cheeks. As it washed over me, I opened my eyes to watch as the swirling green remnants disappeared. I willed myself to continue my gaze until the all the green was gone...