bounce

This post is sooo long overdue, but here I am. After K.Lo’s Bouncy Party in January, I was all psyched on the idea of bouncing, and wished to muse. I briefly pondered the purchase of a trampoline, and still it remains tucked away on my secret wish list for someday. Maybe when the children are older and I can better justify the monetary and yard space costs? All I know is, it’s an amazing workout: cardio and calves both feel the burn. But so much better is the experience of bouncing. It is instant tele-transportation back to childhood. It is brain on ice. There are very few activities in my world where I feel freedom from thought. Not of thought; there is plenty of that. From thought. Most nights I have trouble getting to sleep because I can’t shut my mind down, and must make a concerted effort to do so. It’s an interesting problem to have, over-thinking. Not bad necessarily, just interesting. Maybe that’s just what it is to be a girl. It is my personal advantage and disadvantage, assisting me only up to a point. For instance, I type really well—until I start to think about it. Same thing with walking. Talking. And parenting. It’s why I’m bad at exercise as well, too much time and space to think about the action of exercise, and ponder its futility. All exercise should be like bouncing, where there is nothing to do but bounce and fully immerse oneself in the physical action of it. And in a bouncy castle, creepy as m claims them to be, all I see, all I know in that space is color and laughter and the green and blue and brown world tossing about just on the other side of the net, and it’s a beautiful thing.