Mitochondria

“We all come into existence as a single cell, smaller than a speck of dust. Much smaller. Divide. Multiply. Add and subtract. Matter changes hands, atoms flow in and out, molecules pivot, proteins stitch together, mitochondria send out their oxidative dictates; we begin as a microscopic electrical swarm. The lungs the brain the heart. Forty weeks later, six trillion cells get crushed in the vise of our mother’s birth canal and we howl. Then the world starts in on us.” 
― Anthony Doerr, All the Light We Cannot See

All living cells have mitochondria. They are small little threads and are the energy producers inside the cell. mito- means thread. As I understand it, mitochondria merged with cells in the ancient biological soup because they worked better together. Before they were part of a cell, they were bacteria that developed a complex symbiotic relationship with cells. Now, as things have evolved, they have merged in to one thing and are "the powerhouse of the cell". The cell and the mitochondria work together to make more energy. (mitochondria does so much more, however, I just don't have the time to explain it all here)

Nature is a clever problem solver and it is always in action, that is one of the most amazing things about it is its pulsing and constant motion, layers and layers of complex motion and interaction, dance. Most of which is invisible to the eye. In yoga this morning, I decided to be in constant motion, no matter how subtle, I tried to keep a flow of movement, mostly with my eyes closed so I wouldn't feel self-conscious.

I see dancing as a deep form of listening. I find solace there. Constantly moving in yoga settles my mind. I have never really taken dance classes in a meaningful way, but I know in beginner music lessons, they always teach first about meter and rhythm and once that becomes internalized then the music can begin. The meter is the pulse, and first you must get quiet and find that pulse, then everything can happen. You can always see the real musicians tapping their foot inadvertently and constantly. It's a form of deep listening. It's the thread, or backbone, of the music. If you're playing music, you are following that thread, I think the same if you are dancing, yoga. 

Though I have never taken a dance class, I would assume that is what they would say, internalize the pulse of the music and let go. The moment you think about what you are doing, you lose the connection. The moment you think the anxious thought, you lose the connection. As for dancing, yoga, writing, anxiety, I am mostly failing but always trying my hardest. It's just that way with life, I guess, and it's the loneliest part of the dance for sure. You reach out and there is nothing. Maybe that's why I always feel so cold. 

“Writing fiction has developed in me an abiding respect for the unknown in a human lifetime and a sense of where to look for the threads, how to follow, how to connect, find in the thick of the tangle what clear line persists.” 
― Eudora Welty

The Night Dances
Sylvia Plath
A smile fell in the grass.
Irretrievable!

And how will your night dances
Lose themselves. In mathematics?

Such pure leaps and spirals –
Surely they travel

The world forever, I shall not entirely
Sit emptied of beauties, the gift

Of your small breath, the drenched grass
Smell of your sleeps, lilies, lilies.

Their flesh bears no relation.
Cold folds of ego, the calla,

And the tiger, embellishing itself –
Spots, and a spread of hot petals.

The comets
Have such a space to cross,

Such coldness, forgetfulness.
So your gestures flake off –

Warm and human, then their pink light
Bleeding and peeling

Through the black amnesias of heaven.
Why am I given

These lamps, these planets
Falling like blessings, like flakes

Six sided, white
On my eyes, my lips, my hair

Touching and melting.
Nowhere.