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Aug. 7th, 2006 10:35 pmIt's just an easy stretch, really: nothing like the shit he used to do before competitions. No sitting on the floor, legs spread wide, nose pressed to the ground. None of that shit. It's just a standing stretch, hands on hips, bending his torso first to the right and then to the left and always gently before he smiles a little bit: they're healing. His ribs are fucking healing, now that they have reason to heal. Do it all over again just to see you smile, Beth Durand, but... I'd really rather not so let's call it even. I know they say third time's a charm, but if we can leave it at twice, I'm okay with that.
Straightening up again, he does the same kind of thing with his neck: side to side, gently. He still can't get it to pop the way he'd like, but that will happen. Once his ribs heal he'll be able to sleep, and once he's able to sleep his neck will relax, and once his neck relaxes, well... it'll pop the way he wants. Cause and effect. Everything's cause and effect.
Empty your mind, be formless. Shapeless, like water. If you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle and it becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot it becomes the teapot. Now, water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend.
Yeah, water. Even with broken bones, a guy can still be water: you roll with it, you adapt. There's not a circumstance life can throw at someone that they can't adapt to. Broken ribs? They'll heal. Baby? Sleep's overrated; maybe that's why he's done so much of it already for so long: to stock up on it. Stuck in this place? Whatever happens happens. Life without Beth?
Shit. Some things aren't worth adapting to. Yeah, they're things he can survive, but does he want to? On some level, sure. But it would be a fuck of a lousy way to live.
No, he'd rather adapt to the way things are, the way they're going to be. Just about another month, a little more, and he's scared shitless but he'll never admit it. But as he looks over to see Beth sleeping so soundly, her arms wrapped around that big body pillow, she looks like she doesn't have a care in the world. He knows she does but still, it's a damn blessing to see her having a moment of peace. She's been so torn up about so much since she got back and while some of it is worry over him, most of it isn't. Most of it's shit she hasn't even talked about, and he's not the type to pry. It doesn't mean he doesn't care; it just means he loves her no matter what's troubling her.
And so he stretches again, just as gently as before but a little bit further, so he can feel those breathing muscles tugging at his ribs and he knows it's enough. There's no point in undoing the healing that's already taken place. Taking in as deep a breath as he can, letting it out: those seem like such normal fucking things but every single one of those that happens without pain is a minor miracle.
He'll take all miracles, minor or not.
Straightening up again, he does the same kind of thing with his neck: side to side, gently. He still can't get it to pop the way he'd like, but that will happen. Once his ribs heal he'll be able to sleep, and once he's able to sleep his neck will relax, and once his neck relaxes, well... it'll pop the way he wants. Cause and effect. Everything's cause and effect.
Empty your mind, be formless. Shapeless, like water. If you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle and it becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot it becomes the teapot. Now, water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend.
Yeah, water. Even with broken bones, a guy can still be water: you roll with it, you adapt. There's not a circumstance life can throw at someone that they can't adapt to. Broken ribs? They'll heal. Baby? Sleep's overrated; maybe that's why he's done so much of it already for so long: to stock up on it. Stuck in this place? Whatever happens happens. Life without Beth?
Shit. Some things aren't worth adapting to. Yeah, they're things he can survive, but does he want to? On some level, sure. But it would be a fuck of a lousy way to live.
No, he'd rather adapt to the way things are, the way they're going to be. Just about another month, a little more, and he's scared shitless but he'll never admit it. But as he looks over to see Beth sleeping so soundly, her arms wrapped around that big body pillow, she looks like she doesn't have a care in the world. He knows she does but still, it's a damn blessing to see her having a moment of peace. She's been so torn up about so much since she got back and while some of it is worry over him, most of it isn't. Most of it's shit she hasn't even talked about, and he's not the type to pry. It doesn't mean he doesn't care; it just means he loves her no matter what's troubling her.
And so he stretches again, just as gently as before but a little bit further, so he can feel those breathing muscles tugging at his ribs and he knows it's enough. There's no point in undoing the healing that's already taken place. Taking in as deep a breath as he can, letting it out: those seem like such normal fucking things but every single one of those that happens without pain is a minor miracle.
He'll take all miracles, minor or not.
