The Passenger Seat

The Passenger Seat

What’s the rule? A car length for every 10 mph? I don’t always follow that rule, but my friend drives way closer to the car ahead than I like. We’re in freeway traffic that is crowded but moving. Several times the brakes are necessary when our lane unexpectedly slows. I sense myself applying brakes of my own, griping my calf and digging my heel into the floorboard. I’m gripping a phantom steering wheel as well–my traps (upper shoulder muscles) clenched in an effort to gain control. My tongue presses back into my throat in a half-swallow. My mother was a nervous passenger, too…

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On Feet

On Feet

It doesn’t take long to lose the joy… Sitting on the subway I sense my toes curling, gripping inside my shoes, as I think about the upcoming hospital visit. My intent to stay open in my body has chased the tension down into the farthest corner. But I don’t want to hide; I want to feel. Yes, toes, it’s true: I feel anxious and afraid…

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A Day at Dallas/Ft. Worth

A Day at Dallas/Ft. Worth

It’s not always easy to walk my talk. The truth is that my current situation here in Dallas challenges my own sage advice to replace compressive, destructive, teeth-gnashing tension with sincere and steady shifts in perception

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