I lasted 9 hours.

I hadn’t anticipated the ease and capacity I have to stay with things, to be with things and to wait, to enjoy noticing details, to become immersed in the physicality and response my body has to gravity, weight, support, to enter into the state of listening to internal processes to the point of losing sense of my skin and be in my fluids and my organs. I moved into and softened onto the corner walls and attempted to fit into the walls but the walls don’t yield or give anything back. They are there solid and unchanging until the desire and the process of giving myself to the walls allows me to transcend beyond and through and once again the materiality of the body and the walls transform and expand beyond the confines of their solidity into a sense of endless potential and scope. I loved it in some strange way. It didn’t feel like punishment even though it was punishing. The moment of loving it made me smile at this thing I made myself do and wondered if I should rename it, ‘A spectacular waste of time’. Maybe the new title demands a re-run.