The Last Night of My Twenties

Sitting in Johnny Picasso’s in Anacortes for Open Mic. Tonight’s the last night of my twenties.

I certainly hadn’t pictured myself here on this night. But here I am. And I’m glad. So what if I’m not out dancing the night away to say goodbye to my twenties? It’s not like I’ll never dance in my thirties. Surely I’ll be dancing even more. And sometimes what we picture isn’t meant to be. Sometimes what happens instead is even better.

Some beautiful flute music just ended. Actually a duet. Flute and keyboard. And it moved me deeply, nearly to tears.
The girl sitting near me says to the musicians, “That was beautiful; it made me want to cry.”
“Me too,” I say. “I felt like crying. In a good way.”

A couple of minutes later though and I’m almost laughing. Not from the music, but from what I see when I flip open the Clamdigger to my ad. I had been thinking I’d cut my ad out and tape it up on the wall next to my qigong brochure that Trish had taped up. But I can’t cut out my ad, because somebody’s marked it up, and I couldn’t be happier about that. There’s a star at the top of the ad, a circle around “CranioSacral Therapy,” and my phone number’s been circled and starred too. This makes me smile. Especially because of the attention given to CranioSacral Therapy.

And now, thanks to that little business-related confidence boost, and thanks to some funky keyboard music, I feel a 2nd wind coming on. So maybe I will go dance the night away up in Bellingham, or at least back in my living room.

* * *

During my walk home, I think I’m going to get in my car and drive north. But the moon catches my eye and won’t let go. Unless something obstructs my vision, I can’t take my eyes off of this moon. It’s full, or about to be tomorrow night.

I was born on a full moon. I think about this as I continue walking. Thinking back to being in the womb, ready to come out into this world.

I’m so entranced by the moon and distracted by thoughts of my birth that I almost walk past my house. When I realize this, I think “so what?” and keep walking. I walk through the courtyard of the Depot Arts Center and out to the marina.

There’s a movement in one of the forms of Qigong I teach called “Qui Er Gazing at the Moon,” in which we imagine gazing up at the moon. So that’s what I want to do.

I want to practice Kuan Yin Standing Qigong out by the water, in the actual (not imagined) moonlight. And so I do.

Instead of dancing with a bunch of sweaty drunk people at a club, I dance with the qi and the moonlight and the rocks of the beach beneath my feet. I feel free and alive. And, man, it feels good.

So this is how I say goodbye to my twenties. And if I hadn’t gone to Johnny Picasso’s for open mic, I probably wouldn’t have gone for a walk. If I hadn’t gone for a walk, it’s quite possible I wouldn’t have noticed the moon. And if I hadn’t noticed the moon, it wouldn’t have been able to call me out to the sea for this exquisite exchange of qi. So thank you, Johnny Picasso’s. And thank you, twenties; these past ten years have been quite a ride, quite a ride indeed.

© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.