1. Acupuncture works.

I’ve felt incredibly “off” for the past few days. Nausea, headaches, back pain, fatigue. My sleep schedule is off. My energy feels similar to the way it did two months ago; a strange, frenetic, electrical feeling in my shoulders and arms. Yesterday, I realized that, up until this week, I’d been going to acupuncture regularly, once a week.

Oh my. This is energy. I even took an at-home covid test to be sure. Clearly negative. Clearly energy.

My acupuncturist is out of the country for two weeks. This means I am in the midst of a three-week acupunctural dry spell. I must move my own energy. But how?

I feel the panic tick up. The electricity in my shoulder blades pulses. My back hurts, threatening to take me down. I text a cousin who is trained in reiki. But she never replies to me, and today is no exception. I am on my own in this.

I must figure this out for myself.

2. Slowing down works.

Let’s try slowing down, She says to me. “She” is my higher self (Super Higher Elizabeth — She is okay with the grammatical license). Slowing down does not come naturally to me. Pushing through, fixing, fighting, forcing comes naturally. Berating myself for not being strong enough, sane enough, clever enough, comes naturally to me.

Let’s just try it out, She says. You can do this. She is so kind to me.

I lie down on my heating pad in the bedroom. I meditate with Headspace. I allow myself to breathe. I feel a little better.

My cat vomits on the carpet. The thoughts, the thoughts. She hasn’t been eating well. She meows with hunger whenever she’s awake. My back tenses at the thought of stooping and scrubbing up the mess. It tenses at the thought of, “My baby isn’t eating again.” You don’t have to clean it up until you’re ready, She assures me. We are going to let the vomit sit there. You are doing everything you can for your precious one. We are not going to take immediate action. We are going to observe. We are going to accept.

I continue breathing, lying on my heating pad. The goal — mimic the acupuncture environment. Low light, warm back, steady breaths. It starts to work. My thoughts race for a while, then settle, a feather floating down onto the ground.

A tornado warning rips through my phone’s speakers. I guess I should get up.

3. My home must always have a covered porch.

I look outside. It’s overcast, and there’s an energy in the air. It’s like the energy that’s trapped inside me. It wants out, but it doesn’t know how to get out. The monster in a cage of others’ design. I’ve been unlocking the cage during acupuncture sessions. I am unlocking the cage now. The storm is coming. We are going to accept it.

I check the radar on my phone. I have seven minutes. I call my neighbor. She’s 79 and we walk together sometimes. She’s in.

The air is thick with pollen; intense with anticipation. Three circuits around the parking lot is about a quarter mile. We only have time for one round today; I can see the storm approaching. The dark-gray mass moving toward us. It’s so beautiful.

We come inside just as the first drops start to fall. I go out to our balcony to watch. I love watching storms come in. The largest trees sway first. The downdrafts bring leaves, twigs, and cool, refreshing air. Then the power comes.

The trees dance, each in its own direction, and somehow, magically, still symphonic. The rain comes in waves and sheets. I notice that the ground underneath our sturdy oak is dry. I watch a small bird spread its wings and ride the wind, the ups and downs and sidewayses, only flapping when it absolutely needed to change direction.

Every now and then, the wind shifts and I’m sprayed with rain. It’s gentle, playful. Even amidst all this might, it’s caressing. It’s kind.

4. I wanted iced coffee today.

The storm passes. The thunder calms. The rain tapers. And so do I.

After I slowed down, after I took the time to walk around in the calm before the storm, after I watched the wind and rain and clouds roll in and raised my arms to it and simultaneously Released and Received, I knew I wanted my daily decaf to be iced and I wanted to write this for us. My head was clear. The decision was easy. I felt light for the first time in days.

She is very happy for me. She’s proud. She smiles at me. She smiles in me.