Normal never fit

Is it normal for a 35-year-old to practice the reject in her room in the morning in her too big snuggle pants?

No, it's not.  I laugh at myself.  I can pop, do Dougie arms--side to side swag or crazy arms--but not the hop back moves with my feet cousin Mason tries to show me every time.  And my moves will always be influenced by gangster rap hippie fests and DC GoGo.  Chuck Brown just died.  Chuck Brown!  I think of Dave Swann.  These are the thoughts, plus the laughing, that I catch me thinking when Rye Rye is on and I'm dancing this morning in my California bedroom.  This is my head when it occurs to me:  Is it normal for a 35-year-old to practice the reject in her room in the morning, in her too big snuggle pants?

Erika and I talked for 3 hours last night.  Talking is not the right word.  It's this high-motioned, bright-ringed fluidity so in real-time that for most it would be surreal.  We call it nous.  Brooks and I call it synchronicity.  He's been texting me all week with his own examples.  Erika and I haven't been engaged like this since late 2010.  She had to make her crossing in to the publishing world and I had to make mine, to California.

It was on Wednesday that I fully understood.

I have wanted, and seen, my whole life long, this image of me staring out at the sea.  What comes with that image is the sure sense of being exactly where I am meant to be at.  All along right there inside of me was this life I always was meant to inhabit, unringed by duty or constrictive what will I do with my life thinking--it is nothing complex at all, just simple, staring at the sea.  It's me in my autonomy and what I suppose I always knew but never acknowledged was what it included.  Allowing, finally, fully, for Poetry me.  That's what the sea is about, giving over to the tidal flows and retreats.  The whole blessed rounds of my creative self.  Owing my power once and for all.

Wednesday I came walking out of the library knowing that I was walking in to a new life.  I just spent three whole months in a curative gestation.  I read and wrote and studied so much, every lit soppy bit meant to feed and nurture the vegetative creative body deep in me. That's always what the sea was about, that's always so exactly all that I really want.  That's the happiness everyone keeps saying they see on me.  What Mike said was so visible it actually is a change in my skin tone.  Me, in awe that another dream has been realized.  Ready to rely on the momentum, the steady coasting magic of all in the past year that I have done.

The laughing whimsy gratitude of it all has got me giddy as a child.  Too bad it's not normal for a 35-year-old to be so free.  Thank god normal never fit on me.