I am taking up more space. Growing outward into my life – into the days yet to come, the hours not yet known, the mysteries and possibilities. Taking on weight, I become more solid in the here and now. I’ve disappeared before. Last winter was one such time. Pound by pound, I shrank. Jeans fit better. Some people commented on how well I looked. Others worried – “You look gaunt.” — So funny how those two aesthetics live side by side. — And though I felt svelte and thus sexy – through that particularly confusing cultural equation – I was also aware of my diminishment. As though I was starting to grow backwards toward the point of conception, growing back into my being and away from the horizon of possibility. And so now as the weight returns, I can feel my clothes again, there is more of me to grab. There is also more of me to take up room, to live in this singing body – a fulcrum from which to pull the power of the world down into my heart, and a grounded center from which to offer my own power back out.