The Football Doctor Plays

There was always a smile and warmth welcoming me, yet he too has question marks tattooed on his eyes. What will I offer in the way of entertainment; his eyes say to me in these visits? I never knew with a list in my hand how my entertainment would take over and he wouldn’t stop me. Perhaps his saying life isn’t always about stories is where I fall short into what he has labeled my “failsafe”. Labeling is what he does as he writes formulas for health. Is there ever going to be an action instead of statements of open ended incredulity.  I’m not sure I want an actual answer. I just want to live flexibly as I work and express this new art form, as he creates in a usually laissez-faire manner. Even in my most outrageous moments, I find a warm regard. I can only imagine what he has seen, in his life with football players and Doctoring’s. There is never enough time for me to really know.  I would like to think that I am now beginning to really create the light openness just by showing up.  Perhaps there is no stopping me? He prescribes in his mind for me wellness not confined by fear. I wait for any opportunity or illness centered directing, reaction or responsive words that free me. I once asked him if he was so used to the football game running in front of him; he just let me run with my personal dynamic.  Back and forth in front of him. His words were: “a good coach knows when to jump in.” His mind knows how to create a sport with whatever I offer. I think he is the same with every other patient. This passive stance where being secure seems to drive me further into creating stories. He is in his unidentifiable thrilling posture. He wanted me to like him, I am sure he didn’t know or care what that meant and neither did I.

Whirling again

Spinning into a labyrinth

His web tangled in mine

A quick swirl

Without feelings

 We move.

We repeat habits.

Never really talking

Only evolving comfort

Till the day I can play

No more.