Puddles

One of my favorite books when I was little was about two pigs.  They were brothers, best pals. Toot and Puddle.  Puddle loved to stay at home, cooking, cleaning, enjoying the steady days, while Toot liked to travel the world, always sending postcards of his travels back to his pal.  My sister and I would read this book to each other. She’s a puddle, I’m a toot. I think the world loves toots, but doesn’t take time to hug the puddles.

It takes courage to sit and be still.  To stay in a spot for time. There is great strength found in rest, maybe the most.  There is an area right below your rib cage that rises and falls with your breath, if you are breathing calmly, that is.  The diaphragm is tense through stress, causing tension through the neck, leading to pinpoint headaches. A place that holds such a deep amount of energy, fire-type energy, yet holds the most amount of smooth muscle tissue organs.  Organs that move without active energy, on their own, reflexively.

I think the world praises the ‘toots’ of this world. Claiming them as perhaps being more brave or more significant than the ‘puddles’.  There’s a lot to say for the toots. It does take a great deal of courage and strength to up and leave a place, to be comfortable with the uncomfortable, to stretch and feel.  I’m a toot, I’ve always been a toot. My sister has always been a puddle. Making a distinction between better and worse in a human is an issue. A balance between toots and puddles hold the world somewhat steady.