Dear G.,
You, perhaps more than anyone, know that nothing is ever what it seems on the surface. To the extent that we can ever know or be known by others, most of our deep inner self still remains in half-shadow, like the dark side of the moon. Last week I was sitting in the break room at work waiting for the teapot, when someone came in and commented that I looked so peaceful sitting there. I was actually wrestling vigorously with some anxiety or other, of little consequence probably (a paper, money, work), but the thought that my own lack of centeredness could appear as peace to the observer amused me.
I see myself in my minds eye riding my bike (down Duval, right?) sans helmet, like something of a banshee hurtling furiously toward the unknown, peddling not in joy, but absolute terror half the time. Of what? That something might catch up with me? And believe me, I never read in coffee shops, and rarely eat salad (I go for the "power" bar)--salad takes far to much preparation! The little free time I have I am madly catching up with schoolwork or trying to get above the ensuing environmental disaster that is my home.
I have never been good at being the calm in the storm (my interpretation of you), but more often am the storm in the middle of the calm. You grasp joy where you find it, all around you, in even the most unlikely places and situations, and I always see you as a woman swimming, perpetually, with those Florida dolphins. And you are right, I really should wear a helmet.
