Running in the graveyard, especially in the tangled center, where I can see skyscrapers in the horizon yet am surrounded by grass and gravestones, is so cathartic. The sky vast above me, I always feel a surge of gratitude. Wordless thank-yous beat in tandem with my sneakers' pounding against the pavement.
I have a friend who recently taught me the zen practice of calming oneself through measured breathing. I have been so impatient lately. I know my life is about to change in wonderful, perhaps terrifying ways, but not just yet. And it is so hard to wait, and rely on other people (agents, for one) to recognize that yes, something magical is happening here.
So: more running. More measured breathing, and perhaps a little less obsessive email checking. I have not yet over-scheduled the week with movies/drinks/shows/art exhibits/staged readings yet, so there may be some room for lying around and finally finishing Haruki Murakami's 1Q84. Or maybe not. It is only Monday, after all.