Partly cloudy, yesterday’s snow covers all outdoor surfaces.I have invited another neighbor, who is also a photographer, to take some images. I begin in profile to her, facing west, slightly crouched over, eyes closed, gathering my attention and focus.

Daylight savings goes away today. It is sunny after a morning of clouds scuttling by. A window is open and I hear some piano music Dave has on the stereo in the shop – distant sound.

I chose to go apple picking in NH with my neighbors who make such superb apple “products”. I thought I would go off into another part of the orchard at 1pm and move but that didn’t work out.

It is almost a year since we began this SSMS and I am happy to be returning to it. The crickets and cicadas are the background noise as I begin, eyes closed and wait. My arms rise and my left hand clasps the thumb of my right. Wait.

It is a mixed day, sunny, cloudy, breezy, close to summer, still spring. Three witnesses. I am learning how to prepare people for this viewing. I feel surrounded and anchored.

Grey light, slight chill but spring softness. The green fuzz is happening on the trees, so exciting. Three of the four of us are in the east: Sara is in NY state and tarin and I are in Vermont. Yesterday, I moved with tarin again who grabbed hold of my slightly reaching hand as I passed by.

It snowed last night. By now, it has melted again and the field is once again brown. I begin with sound, lying in CRP…breath, resting, letting go. Sound is rocky and broken, small. At one point, my arms fold, hands come into my cheeks, backs of hands resting on cheekbones.

Filtered sun, compacted snow after a thaw, now is cold again and dogs are walking on the snow, great freedom to wander further.

Enroute home, train leaves station in Burlington Iowa. I am kneeling on the bed looking out listening to Harold Budd’s “Before day breaks”, slowly moving my arms. We are crossing a river. There are eagles all over the place, in the trees, in the air, on the edge of the ice.

There are panels of sun all the way down the long room. I begin to sing, some sort of song from afar. The dogs start to sing. I lean into the song, touching the sound with my hands/fingertips.

Light, fine snow. Grey skies with a hint of sun. My hip really took a beating on NYC sidewalks…. I begin at the end of the room and move downward to the floor over my left hip, hurts big time, make adjustments that are interesting to me.

Crisp clear day, cold last night down to 18. This is the last dance during GW Bush’s regime!!!!! I spend time with eyes closed, working my way from one light (warm floor) panel to another, reaching with my arm, head, eyes, leg, ribs, hip, back, traveling sliding and swiveling.

This was one of those times in movement when I question what am I doing, why am I moving this way, it is ridiculous, just stop. Nothing seemed to make sense or be in the least bit interesting.

Clear space. Low level Eno along with crickets and light wind. Rub face, scratch hair, yawn yawn yawn. Run down and up the body in mind and touch.