I was relieved to get a note saying that they had already filled the men’s program that I applied to. My body has been feeling tight and sore. I know that I depend on my sisters for protection. I know I need to work on being myself more with men, in accepting challenge, in being decisive, I know. I know—and, I don’t care. I’m sure there was some secret question I was supposed to ask. I know I could have been more present. I’m tired of these games. I just want to be a normal person for a while. I’ve been taking so much in, it seems like all I’ve been doing is training. I have a list a mile long. I’m so impressed.

Y. was kind and insightful when I spoke with her last night. She said again that she knows there’s more of me that could come out, and that when he doesn’t, she doesn’t know where I am. She said that I have a soothing voice, that I should do voice-over work—but not as that other me, the one that’s droning on. There’s an opportunity for me to bring my athlete together with the writer. It’s right there at the top of my chart: In-Te-Gration, as I wrote it.

What happened to the who I was a week ago, the one that dreamed of the Bananaman? I got distracted. I went flying. I want the challenge but then I don’t really want that kind of challenge. I want to fly in my kind of air. I’ve been carrying too much around, putting more and more things into the box. I need some space.

Driving up to the foothills on Friday morning, I had a conversation with S., one of those that’s been a long time coming. She let out a stream of frustration and desire and longing for the world, for life, running in the woods, climbing mountains, dancing, making love. We talked about our recent birthdays and about becoming invisible, and she told me how much she missed being seen.

She visited me at 11:30pm the next day as I was camped on the ridge above Dunlap. I had been out by the fire with the others, not thinking about her, aware that it was getting late. I climbed into bed and stretched out on my back. Lying there, comfortable and quiet after moving all day, I felt her passing through my body. The roof of my van was there above me, and yet I could see the sky full of stars drawing blue, yellow and white lines as they fell through the dark space around me. The pink blanket that I bought in Stockholm was lying across my feet, the photos of friends and ex-girlfriends taped to the cabinet to my right, a book and the stub of a white pencil on the little yacht table next to me. I felt a beautiful glow all around and in my body, a slow explosion of color and sensation, and it was clear to me that this was the person that I had met in Ojai in November. Her long brown hair touched the skin of my chest, and I fell asleep.