Somersault

I write not about gymnastics, though a hidden secret desire of mine has always been to be a gymnast, somersault away...or a dancer.  
(how cliché of me, girly of me, i know)

I write about heart somersaults.  The twist and turns of the heart.  
Surprises,
Leaps of joy,
Unexpected happenings,
Overwhelming emotions. 

We've all had them. 
A flirty smile, an outrageous laugh, playful tears, or a minuscule drop of sorrow. A gasp of air, a trembling shout, a deep sigh, a provocative moan.

One of those moments that makes you feel alive, makes you realize of the present moment, provides the comprehension that you are not alone, that there is an inevitable connection with others, with the belonging to something bigger than yourself. 

I absolutely love and live for those moments.

I dwell on such thoughts. Sure "i could be doing something more productive", i could say....and it's taken me thousands of minutes, days and weeks to believe it is nonsense, believe it with my whole body. 
I've shoved it out of the way, played dumb, numbed my heart and my body--believing life must be "filled" with useful actions, with useful things.  
There is nothing to fill.
What is useful? And to who? For what?

I'm not the same person i was. I'm learning about compassion, I'm exploring forgiveness, I'm discovering the feverish delight of feeling, yearning, desiring. 

I invite those correct, polite, rigid, straight-lined pedestrians to somersault. 

Leap up and back and around. Defy gravity, fly. Entrust your heart, open the solar plexus. Extend your arms, trust your hands. Let your body follow, place your feet on the ground, let the blood rush through you, and stand.  Feel.  
Somersault.

Fía.