Thirsting for Shadows

Heat waves from this body are still pulsing off like a fever dream. And THIS after 5 minutes in a shower cool enough to sharpen the breath and tense the interior like a giant subtle-body boa.

The Running Bundle Best Forgotten (or minimally labelled with a HAZMAT sticker before it is deloused) is carefully tucked into the workout bag, and it's back to the cubicle to continue the cool down over a Dell and Problem Statements and Gantt Charts and migration schedules.

Hottest run ever today - 34 degrees; 7 km from the office to James Cunningham's masterwork to the 9:00 o'clock Gun and back.

Walked out of the air conditioned lobby into a wall of Hot.

Within two minutes the sweat started and with it the realization that this was the easy part - the warm up; a much shadow-dappled sidewalk for the first 5 minutes and then

Sun.

Lots of it.

Shirt came off, hat stayed on, and I danced between headless observer - just space, with a couple of sensation points bobbing into and out of awareness - and running guy; shadechaser; small 's' self - identifications gelling and melting around me in a perfect, unpredictable pattern.

Life's trinity - expansion, contraction, both-and-neither - danced and teased like a ribbon in the wind; and as the run wore me down, it all got very primal ~

Sun-cement
Shade-relief

Sun-cement
Shade-relief

And I realized that it is possible to physically thirst for shadow; for shade; to drink it through every pore; wrap it around the translucent spirit-reductio and revel in its dark majesty before the next furnaced patch is traversed.

As always, the run provided; shade when it became too much; furnaced-brilliance when I could handle it; pleasured-suffering that wore me down and refined what was left like a rough diamond.

Finally, the cold arms of the lobby embracing me like a chastened lover.

I stopped, breathed deep, then caught Otis to the 24th floor where I could see my running path baking in the mid afternoon sun.

namaste