Stepping across our small backyard which I do not have to work hard to maintain, I take a deep breath of cool air. There is no smoke in it, no pollution that I can detect. I take another breath and acknowledge the lack of painful spasm around the sternum, my diaphragm is not burning and there is no sharp grab around my lower back.
The chirp of crickets can match the wave sounds of freeway traffic, and a breeze with high notes blows my hair. I am carrying a bucket of water to the corner patch of grasses and tip it out, over-extending my reach with stress on back muscles and tissue, yet there is no pain and I do not topple awkwardly. As I turn and walk back to the side door there is no anxious struggle for air into tight-bound lungs, and I have plenty of motivation to place the empty bucket on the ground and switch tasks to pulling washing off the line.
My arms reach above my head and hold the pose whilst pulling pegs, and no bone-scrapping ache numbs my shoulders. Clothes fill the basket and still there is force left to tilt my head back and catch the light of a few stars bright enough to outshine city lights. The weight of my head rests back on neck tendons which are not screaming agonised protest at the strain, and there is no discomfort in starring at distant planets above me.
Tall, softly whispering gum trees sway off a ways beyond our metal fence. I see their outline on the darkening night blanket. There is no war here, there is no immediate danger outside my gate. I have water for plants and for drinking. There is food in my cupboards, modern fridge, and the local supermarket. All my family members are safe. I know where they are. I can contact them instantly with my mobile phone. Those living in the same house with me all do so in companionable harmony.
I pick up the hefty basket, newly purchased, and note that nothing hurts, I am not breathless, dizzy or wanting to curl up and disappear. I can reposition the basket on my hip which does not take my breath away from painful nerve pressure. Manoeuvring inside with a large basket and self-closing door is not a hardship and bending to place the basket on the floor can be accomplished in a measured steady movement rather than painful drop. I do not need to place my hands on my knees to push myself upright.
I send gratitude to myself for having manifested this. An environment with less stressfulness embedded in it (at least at night), a body with less pain. On occasion others have called me lucky. Lucky because I have a husband still. Lucky because I can still have provision even though I do not have a job. I do not call myself lucky. I call myself hard-working. I am persistent, consistent, and demanding of the ethers and my CI. I do not cease with my labour. Perhaps I should, just a little, and watch those tree tops more often.
Summer will be here soon enough, and I am already in conversation with my CI and Others about the difficulties of that season. Right now I enjoy cooler nights than those of Northern Australia and give more thanks to myself for manifesting a southern shift. Today, pain is negligible, more reason for congratulations to Self.
This right-now moment was years in planning and work. In my experience, body improvements and environment allowances are not handed out by sweet-faced ethereal beings who tell me I rightfully deserve it. They come from hard work. If I waited for it to come with easefulness, I would be waiting a long long while.
This is the colour of my journey for now.
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