The Silent Kingdom

"Are you a cat person or a dog person?"
I was asked, as though those were the only 2 choices.
At the time, I decided on "cat" but only because I
feel self-indulgent, seek affection on my own terms,
and like shiny things.
I am not a "cat person" or a "dog person" --in fact,
I don't think I'm an animal person.
I find the majority of the Kingdom Animalia to be visually loud.

I can't relate to, or process quickly enough, the sheer motion.
Animals just keep moving.
I'm reminded of 2 friends that I have,
very similar but from completely different
contexts of my life.
Both are dancers and they both MOVE through the world deliberately
and in constant activity. Both struggle to focus and spend a great deal of
their personal time trying to harness their energy.
Both try to move me- to get me back into my body
and when I lapse, as I have recently, into periods of existential coma,
this is a good and helpful thing.

Yet.
I feel the need to emphasize, to explain-- to justify that I am...
a "plant person" after all.
I remember being a small child and enjoying my free time by laying my
body in the center of a patch of sunshine. I have no memories of running, ever.
Sitting and reading, sitting and thinking, sitting and drawing.
Sitting.
Even as an adult, I will feel drained by the crise du jour and instinctively
step into a panel of sunshine, palms up like a ringtailed lemur,
and charge.
Silent. Still. Planted.

As I recently shared with one of my dancer friends, I DO move... just like a plant, is all.
I turn toward the light, grow tendrils and roots, seek nourishment- slowly.
You can track my movement only through prolonged observation and tracking.

I do move.