equilibrium.

13/02/2011 § Leave a comment

“Give it ten minutes, let me know if you need anything.”

“Seriously? I just hang upside down with my arms to the floor for ten minutes?”

“Yes. It is get blood to your brain and re-establish your equilibrium.”

Weird.

I tried it anyways.

For the past few days there has been a weight on people’s shoulders, an undue balance and pressure.

“Yeah, it’s been quite a week. A lot of people have been calling to unload, but I want to unload, too.”

“Go for it, girl,” I invited, as my feet tingled and my lower eye-lids folded over my eye-balls.

Naty decompressed.

Ten-minutes later, she swiveled me back to an upright position.

“How do you feel? Are your legs hot, yet? Here, be horizontal.”

And we hadn’t even gone to the grocery store to get out beer and empanadas.

Essentially, unable (not allowed) to move for a few moments, we caught up on more of this week’s worth of dilemmas while watching “The Transporter” in Spanish. I didn’t even notice until much later how much calmer I had felt. I could breathe.

As bipedal animals, we sometimes forget how to lay down, even when sleeping. We walk, we run, we jog, we sit, each time taking away a fraction of our necessary flat-ness. Being partial to naps whenever and sprawling wherever, I usually do not find a problem with this flow. Something in the air (pollution, perhaps) made it a particularly uncomfortable week.

After the session, we picked up the night’s desires at the store. We climbed to the rooftop and arranged the reclining chairs to watch the moon. Naty got a call from a friend. Someone needed to deflate.

So it was, I sat in solitude listening to the radio: “Where the Streets Have No Names” & “Under My Thumb” & “Sorrow”

The same stuff as home.

It’s rare to find a place so comfortable and elemental compared to Toronto. Sure, there is a lot of colonial architecture, but that is secondary to the energy of the place. People continuously discussing thoughts and ideas and a quietness one rarely finds in major cities.

Yet, there are some differences. When Naty returned, apologizing (“pardon”, not “sorry” which is interesting,) I told her “no, it’s nothing” and to sit down and watch the moon with me.

“Thank you for waiting, Bretana.”

“No, please.” (Not, “you’re welcome.”)

Over beers and beef-pockets we talked about life in general, synchronocity (a concept explored and developed by Carl Jung,) animals (mostly how Carlota, the adopted stray, bites your ankles,) world politics, music, all the while watching the moon disappear. Had it truly been that long?

I could tell Naty was tired and so I gave her an Argentine kiss-on-the-cheek and a tight Canadian hug. I walked myself to the bus stop — some people  just heading to the clubs at 3AM. I hailed the bus. I arrived at home. I got ready for bed. I read an issue of Rolling Stone. I lay horizontal and thought:

You can appreciate the sun only when it rises and falls, but you can admire the moon’s face across the sky all night.

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