It's Saturday. Saturn's day, time keeper, rhythm maker, authority. Discipline. What will I make of this? Saturday, first day off of two. Threshold of weekend.
I wake feeling mean, a fierce pressure at my head, searing tenderness at the joint of my groin when I turn just so, this motion to rise. I have not slept well, too luminous. The melatonin I took at 12 didn't quiet me. And here at not yet 7 I find myself awake and aching, promising myself medication. Where do I go from here?
I remember Henry at the gate. Here now, here is the point of choosing.
I am grateful for ibuprofen and caffeine and their unraveling of knots. I am grateful for the expanse of 2 days with no external shaping forces. I am grateful for this unsettled discomfort and the sense of it as a doorway to pass through. No pre-set answers suffice. What calls me now?