Be still.

I can run.  I can run and smile at the sky, step away from the water fountain and dance, look up at the sun and give thanks.  I can run and cry, feel sobs escape and tears build.  I can run and laugh, a feeling that bubbles out in gasps of glee.  

I know the feeling in my legs after a good 8 mile run, the warm, glad, alive throb of exertion.  I know the feeling of my steady pace, the breaths that match my steps, the sound of my feet scuffing the ground.  I know the feeling of salt dried on my face and sweat dripping off my nose.

I do not know how to be still.  My mind races when my body is still and when I need to think of nothing.  When I would like to forget and when life would be easier if I could.

The last week has been a tumble in rough surf, upside down and sputtering and choking on salt water, tossed on sand.  I'm well aware of my good fortune, and that even negative things don't mean it's the end.

I know what I'm thankful for.  I know the dozens of places where I've messed up and the ways I can blame myself.  I know my blessings.

I do not know what is going to happen.  I've heard that when you're spinning out of control, the hardest thing to do is to be still.