Tuesday, April 30, 2013

4 Swims In-to Bed Head

[The following is by far the worst entry I have ever submitted.  I'm a mess, and so is this attempt.  So I'll let it ride, as an example, a warning, to all other idiots like myself that ever attempt to write something for people to read while a mess physically, mentally and emotionally.  If you, yourself, ever believe you may be suffering from physical, mental, and/or emotional incompetence, yet feel compelled to write something and post it on the web, remember what you are about to read, honestly, and think better of it, and walk away from the computer.  If just one reader manages to avoid a tragedy such as the prose that follows by following this advice, then I guess my shame and embarassment over the following is worth it.  Sigh.]

I got back in the pool last week, three times, and once so far this week (ungodly high winds today).

The song remains the same - extreme progress with rearranging shoulders, hips, with something "new" - core changes (since there is always something "new," it still remains the same, right?), subsequently followed by dizziness, then soreness, then a sleepless night.

I'm too tired of trying to explain the progress, but I'll note it is definitely including aspects of my core with the shoulder and hip changes.  This I do find promising.

The lack of sleep, however, is working me over something wicked.  I have no energy for optimism, though I suppose I am quite optimistic about the weeks to come.

*     *     *     *     *

I have a new metaphor (surprise!), another go, trying to express what I feel like at times.  And true to form per previous attempts, a more literal observation can be taken from the metaphor, I suppose.

The metaphor - unbraided hair.

Imagine, regardless of type, freshly brushed hair is how your body is supposed to be aligned.  Doesn't matter if it's straight or wavy for these purposes.  Just go with your own hair, but make it long if it happens to be short.

Braid it.  Leave it in the braid for a week.  Unbraid it.

So, my body, or portion thereof, feel like a bunch of unbraided hair for a few days after a successful adjustment.  Nothing lies next to each other.  Waves are pushing bends.  Hair goes in every direction.

The only possible comfort is to go back into the braid, but that can't happen anymore.  A genuine adjustment tends to be a one way ticket.  Some segment of me finds it's proper position.  It is not going back, at least not easily.  Yet, all parts connected to it, which had managed to function by creating a braid, are now unbraided.

Enter the opposite of comfort - discomfort, uncomfort, acomfort, anti-comfort.

*     *     *     *     *

So, the above, as I sat in front of this computer trying to work out the prose for this entry (which I gave up on and went free form - my apologies), made me realize what horrible bed head I have known every day of my life.

Well, not every day.  There are all the days, like the current ones, in which my head is shaved.

I don't have a good looking shaved head.  It is not horrible, either.  But this way I don't deal with bed head.

And I should also note that I have ridiculously fine hair, which does make for worse bed head.

*     *     *     *     *

Not anything profound, but the odds are, if your bed head is crazy-every-which-way bed head, as opposed to one-spot-pushed-funny bed head, you are out of alignment.  Granted, you are not likely perverted like my body is/was, but I'll bet you also have restless leg syndrome.

[I would hope anyone that has actually tried to read my rants and ravings can guess my position on "restless leg syndrome."  Yes, doctors labelled a phenomenon and throw a sedative at it when the person is really just out of alignment.  The body wants to be in alignment, and the legs are trying to do so while your conscious self is no longer running the program - very much as I believe is the case with R.E.M., the eyes unwinding the day's work - but that's a post for another day, one I probably will never write.]

*     *     *     *     *

A beyond poor entry, but I've had some issues.

I don't think I can articulate may way into expressing what I know to be true.  It just can't happen, unless read by someone with a similar situation.

What I feel happening to my body, I believe, is so outside normal sensory perception others experience, I can't possibly do it justice.

Consider acid.  If you ever took acid or mushrooms or some other hallucinogen, you can try to explain to someone that has not what it was like.  You could do an incredible job, such that that person might believe they know, they might even be able to parrot what you told them such that others believe they have done the drugs.  Yet, you know they don't have a clue. 

Not until they dose.

It's actually arguable that even those that have dropped acid don't really know what it is like when they are no longer under the influence, as seen by the "oh yeah, I remember this" moment an acid freak has the next time they drop.

Have I mentioned I attended UC Berkeley.

Anywho . . . my point.

*     *     *     *     *

It may well be that I am better off NOT trying to explain this, at least until some inspiration sets me back to prose, so much as to recommend what others should do.

And with that, here is my first bit of advice -

All children should be exposed to yoga and a form of dance which stresses posture.

Get them to activate all their muscles through yoga, as unbalance increases exponentially otherwise as they grow and live.  Then, get them to realize positions of proper posture, as these will give them moments when there body is most balanced, in effort.

If your not a child, odds are your fucked.

Not as bad as me, of course, but seeing that any well meant efforts could turn you into some fraction of me, I wouldn't recommend it.

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