We slip between modes of comfort and discomfort. The time between is growth.
We grow in random and chaotic stages for the
rest of our lives once our knees stop hurting from the Green Giant push of
youth and marrow.
The random stages of
growth carry into the finer less material phases of a person’s existence. They extend into the mental and elemental.
They slide up your spine like the Kundalini
and tickle your neocortex to remember a finer state of grace where the physical
realities seem dense and burdened, where the sweet sensations of the souls’
mercurial unfolding breach the gap between the formal Russian Ballet and Twyla
Tharp.
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