Monday, November 30, 2009

on love, and other superpowers

"I think I need a montage," I said, taking greedy pulls from the weak Utah beer in my hand. It's been a good long time since I was surrounded by people I don't know, doing things I have no idea how to do - and seeping with cover-your-mouth-awful poison oak, at that.

The girl who had never done more than amble up to a higher rock with a beer was suddenly pressed to outrun looming rainclouds by scrabbling up the sheer walls of a slot canyon. The girl who had all but rolled her eyes at the thought of a 30-foot ascent for a prettier view of Joshua Tree was suddenly vaulting up chimneys to a 600-foot-high exit point. The girl who didn't much like the idea is suddenly very, very keen for sticky shoes and a harness and some rope and some clinky things.

My upper body is as sore as my poison-plant rash is itchy, and that's sayin' somethin'. So worth it.

The balance of hand and foot and slide and stone has done interesting things. Commuting back from work on the bike today, I realized an eerily appreciable change in my balance - I perched my bike perfectly over its dead-stopped wheels for a solid few seconds before I realized I was doing it. It was startling. It was good. I want more.

Monday, November 09, 2009

i promise to be perfect

I'm fascinated by our recontextualization.

Over there, despite the off-putting plate tectonics of my vestigial life, we were simplified by the dynamics of the places we moved through. There was a simple poetry in the single backpack shoved in the back of that little blue Citigolf, white dashes flashing by on the pavement below, a hand resting on my knee. Back in the States, the overflow of comforts and options and niceties is almost stifling. We're working so hard, but it's so different.

I always thought I'd have to pay dearly for this. I've never had reason to believe that partnership didn't come with a hefty price tag - financial, emotional, aspirational - and that I'd never find anyone to truly keep pace, anyway. I'd gotten so close to settling, so many times, just-barely saved by part of me that's born to run, despairing at the practical uselessness of love.

Somebody's running with me - right next to me, on his own. In the same direction.

He's inspiring. He's brilliant. He never implies that I oughta put on the brakes and wait for him. He twists back his very own throttle and flashes me a great big smile.

C'mon, babe. No time to waste.