Spinning

It is one of those days. It might be one of those weeks.

My head is spinning. It feels like I am on a tilt-a-whirl at an amusement park. The ceiling fan is spinning the wrong way. I move in two directions at once at different speeds.

Where is up?

Does sound ever give you nausea? It is loud.

I can hear my heart beating in my ear.

I can’t complete a thought.

It’s been raining all week.

I’ve been remembering the feeling of being out in the rain, on purpose, in the summer, as a teen. The way that the clouds rolled in over the bay on a humid day. Warm sand beneath my feet. The sky breaks open, and cherry sized drops of water drench my hair and skin. Palms and face turned up to heaven. The smell of salt in the air. Goosebumps. The pattering of so many raindrops that everything turns quiet.

The things that keep me grounded aren’t the things I expected to. They are much smaller.

I’d like to get off this ride for a minute. Just take a breath.

I wonder if God is dizzy.  Does Her head spin like mine?

All of creation moves and twirls and dances.

Different patterns. Different rhythms. It doesn’t stop.

Planets, moons, comets, winds, waters, seasons, days, peoples, loves, bodies, wombs.

Life. Birth and Death and Birth and Death and Birth and….

Did the waters burst forth from Her womb with such force that they still can’t be calmed?

Is She Mother, rocking and swaying and dancing all hours, day and night?

Calming? Shhshing?

Does Her head spin?

My head is still spinning.

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