Two things that always help me heal when I am down, or lost, or broken: music and running.
Are you shocked that it’s not shopping or a gin and tonic or sex ? No, I only do those things when I’m happy, that’s a rule. This is also why I have never found myself, nor have myself being found, drunk—escape drinking, or sex, or shopping, is the worse, or maybe I’m just a control freak.
Yes, I am, which brings us back to music and running. Running is like meditation for me; the whole point of running is to let go of control even just for 30 minutes. Of course it can be a drag. In fact, it’s always a drag, especially in the morning. And when I’m down—are you mad? I don’t even want to breathe when I’m feeling down. Lucky I’m a balanced idealist to a certain point that my mind could always bring myself to cook ideas to resolve a problem and often times my problem is being a control freak. Many times, all I need to do is remember the feeling I get from the aftermath: it’s always—I mean always, good
with an exclamation mark.
I went to bed past midnight last night, having gobbled up spicy Chinese food I ordered via Uber Eat at about eleven and fell asleep two hours later, having caught up with all my restless thoughts. I woke up at about seven this morning, as always, regardless what time I sleep—it’s some kind of biological alarm. What time I get up is completely irrelevant! However, this morning I looked outside the windows and, still weighted down by my heavy thought leftovers from the previous night, I decided that I needed a revolution today,
a teeny weeny revolution.
So up I got, got changed slowly, not even enthusiastically, letting commuters standing at the railway right across my flat have their morning reward (read: seeing my backside and all—I’m that charitable), had a few sips of water (not gin—shocking) in the glass by my bed from last night, put my arm out through the window to gauge if I should put my stunning Adidas x Stella McCartney silver reflective running jacket on or not (the answer was yes, for fashionable reasons) and went downstairs and outside.
Easy,
I took it real easy. Making myself aware of the surroundings, I made myself stop thinking, which I do most of my waking hours (yes, even when I have sex). Was it a drag—running? Of course, it was. But once I stopped thinking, the joy started taking over. I was on my own, but I was not feeling alone. It was my first run after a couple of weeks, and I was happy doing 16 minutes per mile. I was not feeling weedy, I was not feeling slow, I was in touch with my body and what it needed. I even got a few goose bumps just seeing the blossoms flying in the air and of course the music really helped. I was just listening to one song on repeat for 30 minutes; it was ‘Sweet’ by Cigarettes After Sex—it made me feel loved,
by the unknown, by the universe.
At the end of my run, I felt so good it really did feel like cigarettes after sex! For you who don’t smoke, or have sex for that matter, just imagine your post-climax moments whatever makes you pop!
Home and time to make coffee and bake some croissants. Put some old songs on, I was expecting a locksmith to install a lock on the door into my kitchen and living area. The old gentleman arrived at the same time as my croissants were ready so I offered him some in the company of a black coffee.
May I also add that good feelings attract good interactions with people? Yes, I may. I was being charming and lovely to my locksmith—mind you I’m always being charming and lovely with everyone (save my lovers) regardless whether or not I have been running. The thing to underline is the reaction I got from the locksmith, basically sunshine coming out of my arse were the things he said in a gentlemanly manner. You have to agree that being charming and lovely doesn’t always attract rewarding reactions. I think that has a lot to do with how we feel inside. When I feel genuine joy within me, I do tend to blow good reactions out of proportion and quickly brush the bad reactions off.
It’s past midday and the good feelings still linger. I feel so fresh and inspired to be productive, like finishing this letter to you and sorting out the water and electricity accounts for my London flat and starting a new translation job (see—this joy even attracts work!)
What about music? Oh you can’t expect me to be that productive; we have to talk about it next time—I only ran for 30 minutes, for goodness sake!
Je t’embrasse !
d.o., 11 mai 2018
Imagined Paris 