on my prana. and how i almost lost it.
Last night I almost broke my neck while doing dolphin pose in the shower. I realise how ridiculous this sounds, now. But at the time aqua-yoga seemed quite reasonable.
And I nearly died.
There was no voice. No shining light. No reflection of any kind. But there was a considerable imagining on my part of what life would be like without me. How my husband would grieve. How Flynn would curse. How the medical examiner would write up the sight of my comically twisted body, covered in Phytopeel and smelling of Moroccan roses.
I imagined my funeral. Those who would attend. And those who would not. I saw my grandfather, at home, shoveling coal in his basement, because that’s where I reckon he’d be. And My Stephanie. Laughing hysterically in the center of the funeral parlour because she gets embarrassed when she cries and humour is how she deals with it.
Then I imagined this huge yellow urn. How I’d be in it. And how any wife The Euro might eventually choose to claim after my demise would have to stare at it – as stipulated by my will – forever.
I spent 20 minutes on this. I could have been sleeping.