My Little Golden Book of Phobias

In 5 rhythms dance, chaos is everything but at the bottom is grief. So last night I danced the grief dance, all the way to the bottom. It felt like my whole body was crying.

This morning is therapy, oh boy. My therapist in in Pioneer Square, land of tourists wandering around with cameras and triple shot mochas with whipped cream. They ride The Duck, which is an amphibious car/boat thing with a guy hollering in the front. They get pulled around in horse-drawn carriages. They stand in clumps waiting for the Underground Tour of Seattle to start. 

I've never ridden The Duck, or a horse-drawn carriage or gone on the Tour. Nor will I. I would like to ride on the new ginormous ferris wheel by the waterfront but I hear the lines are huge and it costs, like a million dollars.

Also Pioneer Square has homeless people. My homeless man is usually there on a bench by Chief Sealth. He's polite with his cap out. I give him a dollor and sometimes five dollars. I look forward to seeing him because I know he's still ok, wherever he sleeps. He always asks how I am and he always blesses me. This morning I need his blessing. 

And the sun shines on all us sinners.