March 26, 2010
This is my first post.
Coming on my sixty-ninth birthday (March 29), I’m startled as the bird that shrieks when it first flies the nest. Sixty nine is such a rounding number. I see it below as I sail upward, detached; there it is folding back in over itself - full of sexual and esoteric and metaphoric synapses in my mind. And with all the years behind me of practicing hatha yoga, I think I’m a new baby, carried by a huge swan, so to speak, remarking, marking, sighing at how our life together is unwrapping.
As a child I saw order in everywhere, which I knew I’d come here to understand. I knew that every time I cried.
So I came I figured to see and comprehend. And maybe learn to give up crying.
Gail Bentley Walsh