It’s time for the sadness of winter to end.
It’s time for the warmth to win over cold hands holding darkness.
Not long now (I hope);
Too long, still (I fear).
capture the essence of me
sandalwood and pine
Warm wood fires at midnight
and crisp cold northern mornings.
I’ve been ill for about three weeks now. Nasty cold with occasional high temperature means I have to stay away from capoeira (and running around in general, I can’t even run to catch my train without wheezing and coughing). It started just a couple of weeks after Christmas break; and together with the issue of two of our previous gym halls being demolished this makes for two months of very little capoeira at all. Last week when I was beginning to feel better I started to do some push-ups, crunches, and handstand/headstand against the wall, but that was before the coughing got out of control. Right now I’m on antibiotics (took the third and last pill a few hours ago, thankfully none of the very common nasty side effects apart from feeling high the first day, which was kind of funny) and take an antitussive at night that is related to opiates (the package insert says it might cause euphoria, but so far I’ve experienced the opposite – depressed crying at night and stuff like that). At least my head is pretty clear again during the day.
I miss class so badly. Capoeira is what makes me feel alive, strong, free, accepted. I want to move and get stronger. I miss playing with my friends, the singing and laughing and feeling exhausted but satisfied by the end of the evening. Maybe by the end of next week I’ll be able to start again.
I have to be more careful than last year – back then I tried to go back too soon and ended up with nearly two months of recurring colds, overall weakness, and a lot of pain in my lungs/abdominal muscles. Not something I want to experience again, thank you very much.
My soul is a wolf, running over winter hills, traces in the snow, starlit;
aurora crowning me in green and gold and blue, ancient star-fire
– running with the storm, the clouds, towards a blood-red moon, dipped in gold and drops of silver,
running, running, breathing icy air, lungs on cold fire,
going, going, keep going, running through nights,
dark and starry velvet curtains parting like nowhere found in city walls, not anymore,
and the wolf keeps running.
Listening to Heather Dale while looking at pictures of beautiful stars, nebulae, and northern lights makes me feel my inner wolf again.
They will shut down the school building where we practise capoeira on Mondays for good after the holidays and demolish it in January or so; this was the first piece of bad news I read today. Yeah, and there is no replacement in sight, so no more class for us on Mondays. We’re not amused.
A guy from choir died rather unexpectedly this week; I got this message this morning as well. The funeral will be on the day of the little Christmas celebration my boss wants to hold at her house and I have no clue if I’ll be able to cope emotionally with singing at a funeral in the afternoon and heading to a friendly, joyful gathering in the evening. I guess I will, but the idea of it still feels weird. (Oh, and last capoeira class for this year would also be that night, including heading out for drinks afterwards, but I can’t go to two events at the same time; why does everything have to fall on the same day?)
And now I have the evil cramps.
On the plus side, I managed to do a few handstands against the wall at capoeira class tonight, got a high-five for it, and started working on arm presses from the handstand position.
Still I’m glad this day will be over soon, I’m sort of feeling like a wreck right now due to the aforementioned crap piled on my already annoying cold. Good night.
Scene in the grocery store, last Saturday when doing the weekly shopping with Darling: Me holding up a piece of ginger root, “Does this ginger know how to ginga?”
So yes, we had a capoeira workshop on Sunday. About half of the time we practised throwing each other to the ground in various ways (not all of these are true capoeira moves, but the mestre said we have to be prepared to encounter people who use these). And we practised kicking like a mule, literally. I can’t do a proper handstand, but somehow I’m able to kick someone in the stomach with both feet at the same time (and with a decent amount of precision) from standing on all fours. That part was fun!
Now I’m feeling ill (I did hang out with too many people having nasty colds over the last two weeks) and know I should get up from bed to check if the non-ginga-capable ginger would like to become a hot drink.
[insert leap in time of about 30 minutes]
… and yes, I really made myself some ginger tea. And ate a whole clove of raw garlic. Some smart person recently said that to get rid of a cold one should consume plenty of ginger, garlic, onion, and lemon. I don’t have any lemons at home right now, and I hate chopping onions, so the first two remedies and vitamin C powder will have to suffice for the moment.
burning with cold fire
all the passion of blizzards
distilled in one glance
I was angry last night, because not for the first time some creepy guy followed me out of the train station and nudged me twice on the way. I hate it when strangers follow me and touch me to get my attention despite all of my attempts to signal disinterest. A cold fire in my heart.
And obviously I’m writing a lot of winter themed stuff at the moment. The next one or two will be about something different, I promise!
memories of warmer days
whispered in cold nights
A sequel to my haiku “the smell of winter”. Somehow the words “winter promises” stuck in my mind and had to become part of something else. There is a bigger picture, but at the moment I lack the words to capture it in all its nuances, so an open, ongoing series of short pieces of writing is all I can try, following the random strings and paths my thoughts weave.
fog and wood-fire
cold air full of promises
the smell of winter
My haiku for today. So much fog. It made the train ride across the arms of the river more interesting; I was hardly able to see any water, but the little banks of land with golden trees looked beautiful and mythical when appearing out of the fog, just to fade again. The scent of burning wood from some chimneys, the sharp cold in the morning just above zero degrees … it makes me feel alive.
I used to like the cold
then I turned to warmth, to summer heat, to storms and thunder on sweltering days, to soft autumn glory
but now I remember how open fields of snow used to give me space to breathe, a canvas for clear thoughts
and I recall how my lungs opened, exhaling dust and taking in the cold expanse of mountain ranges for the first time
I miss real winter
last night I discovered
that my unlikely muse is not only autumn at the turning point to clear winter,
with warm forest-wood eyes and at the same time piercing snowflakes
but the calm and steady touchstone of warmth on these cold days as well,
a blanket of friendly thoughts keeping the wind outside a Nordic wood cabin full of white pillows
so yes, I miss winter now