this is what my lungs look like!

It's been rising for a few days: my blankets feel like a bear trap, each seam around each layer of clothes a too-tight-collar, my socks and shoes a concrete cast, my coughing a reminder that I won't be able to move anywhere as long as I breathe. Feeling so constricted by all the accessories of winter, today comes and there's more than 50 degrees and a little thaw. I'm sitting on top of my comforter, a bag full of prescriptions, and starting to fear the freedom. I'm not quite sure if I'm ready to let go of these obstacles that have become companions.

The snow this week did not offer any magic. Even though it was deep and light and soft, it was also cold and still felt like walls. Until today when there were stripes of dirty, slushy, half melted grey mess and salt stains everywhere and white patches around sidewalk trees and climbing up the hill by the museum. I remember a time in college when the whole campus was covered in snow for weeks on end. It never quite melted and then it would get recovered over and over and on that first day when it started to melt you could hear the water move and ripple down paved corners. It's not quite like that here but I appreciate the dirt (again). I see the dirt, today, as not something that brings color and beauty but just dirt. Humble and ordinary and more fitting than all that bright fluffy snow.

8

Look, I'm gonna be real wichyu. I have been coughing for 7 weeks. I am sick and going to the doctor and if they don't give me a fucking chest x-ray I am going to make flyers all over the neighborhood and slander their practice. I know this does not sound like the peaceful morning light I am trying to promote on this blog, but after the morning comes the rest of the day (where I get cranky) and then the night (where I cough for hours). That being said, I was supposed to write this on Wednesday but the night before I sat up coughing all over myself and didn't sleep and was worthless all day. The only thing I was thankful for was animals that are able to roll into balls or cuddle into themselves. After work I went to 1928 without my camera. It was very peaceful and pleasant and I would have liked to show you a picture. Maybe I will take a picture another day and add it to this post. It won't matter that I didn't take it on the actual day because it's not like that house ever looks any different at all. Stay tuned for my next entry because you will be a-mazed at how much I can change tone in a matter of moments. After I publish this post I am going to spin around on the rug and move from Wednesday to Thursday and write Thursdays actual, legitimate message.

7 - praise

everything happens in the dining room, here.

6 - Adoration

billowy blustery snow day. around 20 degrees all day and fine, drifty snow. too many cooks in the kitchen. that pot of soup sat on the stove for six hours (at least). plates and glasses and eating spoons and stirring spoons and crumbs and onion skins and milk rings and tea rings and juice rings all stacked and piled and jostling and clanging and chiming.

throughout the day, andrea and i each left once to walk to the corner and put something in the mail. when michael came home the door flew open, he tramped through swirls and i swallowed that cold air like fists. it was welcome. i thought it was peaceful to keep to myself but i realize it's also crazy.

5 - corporate worship

-- after the first week of writing, when all of the prayer meditations have been covered, I will stop addressing them directly and just leave them in the labels or titles of the posts. it is your responsibility to make a connection to them. ---

My first day to celebrate corporate worship! and I went to church alone, left without saying hello to my friends or roommates, and came home to my bed. where i have stayed this long lonely time. I bought this yarn yesterday in union square (it turns out to be more vibrant and green). I feel a little like this bundle.

4 - petition and intercession

Yesterday was the first day I've spent in New York City where I ended feeling inspired instead of just overwhelmed. Long ago, Michael and I talked about how the City is Too Much With Us, noticing that people there act as caricatures of themselves. There are too many stories behind each hipster haircut, old lady surrounded in fur, and man walking his children from their Saturday morning dance or swimming or piano lessons. There's something about New York that carries a weight of representation or modelling what lives are all about.

Modeling is a bit of a silly word, especially for me because we use it so much at work to describe our actions under the always watchful and absorbing eyes of children. I like to think of our adult dependence on each other for modeling, too. My peace yesterday, I think, came from this: That there's a little truth, a little love, a little lord in the lives around me if only my eyes are made to see.