I came into her life to keep her calm and grounded, especially for her travels, but also for home. Our relationship was intermittent at first, she only using me occasionally, preferring my thicker sister she needed at work. But we would meet in her home office, when she had been sitting long hours at the computer and needed to break from that digital world. She could hear herself again when I was there, a sounding board for feet, hands, knees, and forehead. I have felt her grip, her sweat, the tremor of her muscles. I gave her the courage to venture out.
I went with her to New York City, stretching out beside a Brooklyn fire fighter who was excited to share his practice. I drove with her through the Alleghenies and supported her efforts to calm a chapter of sorority girls. I’ve gone to beach houses up and down the east coast, providing a quiet balance, a sanctuary from too much family togetherness. She has used me and neglected me, leaving me helplessly covered in cat hair.
Recently I flew with her on a plane to California. She laid herself over me and I felt the jumbled energy in her mind, hope and doubt in an awkward, rhythmless dance. She laid me in the dust of a dozen studios and she searched for her tribe in this new territory. She used me to ground her writing at the makeshift standing desk, trying to stay connected to her own energy while she wrote about violence and evil.
And now she has unrolled me in the desert, grinding sand into me as she reached for the brilliant tangerine sunset. I know it was my presence that gave her the cool curiosity to watch a giant spider head out for the evening after a day in his desert grass web. Ancient energy pulled up from deep beneath me, passing right through me and into her feet, shooting through her fingers into the deepening blue. Together we create an antenna, sending and receiving energy in the universe.