the way home

One of the greatest gifts I received growing up came in the form of a sunny afternoon's walk home from the bus stop. I was overcome with the sensation that, regardless of what trials lay behind and what awaited me at home, I was ok. I was not only safe in this green, insulated bubble of Copland Drive, but happy. I took a seat on the curb and basked in this realization before continuing on my way. For those few gloriously stretched out minutes I felt liberated from fear and from the kind of debilitating worry which, we come to find, renders us powerlessly ineffective as adults and taints far too many of our experiences with mental anguish and physical tension. This experience (and many since) of momentary awareness is what emboldens me in my study of the Alexander Technique and why every return to length and width feels fresh after having lapsed into anxiety. This place of opening and gentle release is a home you can never return too often. It is the kind that leaves your sheets made up, your favorite quilt on the bed, the lights on.