... run, jump, fly ...

... lately I've been thinking about the power of primal scream therapy ... not necessarily to vent any repressed childhood trauma, but as a lusty stress release ... full throated yelling ... preferably into a stiff wind, well out of earshot of anyone who might be tempted to come to the rescue or dial 911 ... an emotional bloodletting, without any rorschach splatter ....









... one of the best ways to exorcise is to exercise ... so, fanned by the freedom of Brandon's Beach, Barbados, in a morning ritual before daily duty, I claimed for myself a gift of fantasy which cost no money, but proved priceless ... outsprinting Bolt and Asafa I shattered world records right there in the sand ... before rising above the Brazilian defense to head home a winner in the World Cup Final ... listen to the roar of that crowd! ...













... as I understand it stress is a killer ... and psychological disquiet can inhibit the most confident voice or the surest gait, especially affecting those of us who are prone to not making the most of what we are equipped with ... the effort of exertion and the purposeful use of lung is tantamout to meditation ... bringing a centered balance ... ballast in the keel ...




... in no time I am airborne ... not quite leaping tall buildings in a single bound but at least driving to the basket like Kobe, in a sport I don't even play ... momentary sanity hands off my Canon EOS Rebel to KP ... snap-snap-proof-print! ... I believe I can fly! ...

... note to self ... practice this more often ...