the Woman at the Dead Sea

Today I am high only on fresh air, my belly is full, and I do not feel anxious.

I sit in a beautiful, green atrium—light abound & soul-filling—and I take a deep breath against wide open ribs. They stretch, waking to the oxygen.

I scan down my body: Shoulders rolled back, heart relaxed, legs slightly apart, feet flat on the floor. I feel the earth send warm energy up through my feet and wish it was grass between bare toes.

I think of the woman I saw at the Dead Sea, naked and painted in mud, and wish I could bring her freedom here. I was envious of it. I see little hairs poke out of my swim bottoms and cross my legs.

She wasn’t thinking about little hairs.

She decided one day that she would simply exist, high only on fresh air, belly full, and love herself completely. She made generous space for the toxins to ebb. She took in the sun and shimmered.

I find it difficult to love myself alone. To take a solo vacation; to spend time with discomfort. Because that’s what happens when I’m in my own head for too long: I am found by Discomfort. My instincts reach for distraction. But the Discomfort never goes away. It’s the sun on a hot day. I put on sunglasses to protect my mind—but they do not protect my body.

The burn sits deep and slow. I need a cool shower. I need generous space for the toxins to ebb.

It is freeing to love myself. To exchange power with the earth. For my chest to not feel tight, for once.

But here I am sharing the same sweet air with my Higher Self, naked & dreamlike, and I am frozen—the same mud covering her skin that holds my ankles starkly in place.

I hold myself and hearten the mud to soften.

Her eye twinkles from across the beach.

I search for the bridge between us.