Body Whispering

Do you gurgle, grunt, and gripe, grind the soft bones of thought dry? You need some orchestration, some instrumental tuning. Play with those ad hoc glottalized vibes, harmonize. The body, that geomungos collection of agrarian earth animalcules which work for themselves alone, tilling mud, repairing dykes & ditches, that biological chain gang that works on robotically within a symbiotic conglomerate others have put a name to, that commune of the blind it needs to be honored for its industry. It is your manikin self – wind it up with new tunes. It has to be warbled to, bill & coo some as if it were a real child. it needs lullabies and ballads, calm it with gentle glissandos. Be not crotchety. Even if your own voice is an amphibian nightmare that growls off key, sing soto voce - be a body whisperer. You may still grapple occasionally with those galumphing gargoyles of your flesh, but love will be in you like a soft pretzel, you will be tasty and salty, not sad and sickly. Your tide will turn, your shore will be giddy with the sounding of your songs, the swirling pipes of your soul. Your comforted body will purr upon the lap of sleep like a well-nourished tabby cat or squeak not like well-oiled piano stool.