Tight?
Stiff?
Churning? Not so much. 

Something is definitely going on. 
It’s not something I ate. I had a normal breakfast this morning. Had my coffee, did whatever I need to do. 
But yet still, my stomach is making itself known. 

It’s interesting how our brain is connected to our stomach, isn’t it? Not so much to tell us when we’re hungry, but…

I suspect it’s stress. 
Pressures from work. 
Lists of things to do. 
Reports to fill out at the beginning of the year — even though we’re already in the end of the first quarter. 

It’s been busy. Lots of guests. 
It’s been wonderful. Lots of guests. 
But not a lot of time to do the administrative work that I need to do. 

So today,

Tight. 
Stiff. 
Churning? Not so much. 

But …

Maybe it’s more than that. 

Maybe it’s my upcoming doctor’s visit. Not too serious. I don’t think. A ‘plumbing’ issue — But not, seemingly, something a plumber can fix or I’d go see a plumber. Probably cost the same. I don’t live in a universal healthcare country so it’s pay as you go. 

Don’t think a plumber could help me. 

But a urologist definitely can. 

Nervous? Perhaps. 
Wondering? Perhaps. 

My mind doesn’t seem too distressed, although in the back of it is my high school classmate, Isaac, who’s spent the last month in the hospital, dealing with a serious health issue. 

I just turned 59. And apparently with that age comes a whole host of things that never seemed to bother me before. 

I saw kids running in the street today …
Carrying heavy stuff.
Going along as if there’s no tomorrow. 
Energy. 
Exuberance.
Joy. 

None of the worries of the life ahead have reached them, yet. 

Me …

I don’t run down the street carrying my garbage. 
I carry it carefully, so the bag doesn’t break, hoping that by the time I get to the end of my street, I’m not huffing and puffing too much. 

It’s interesting how ‘athletics’ happen in our life. 
They happen when we’re younger. I was a track star after all. The fastest in any of the schools that I attended. 
Haven’t done that for a while. Turns out those schools were High Schools!

But yet it seems that athletics needs to reenter my life. 

I need to return to a love of …
running … ?
jogging … ?
walking … ?
pedalling … ?

Something. 

Because without that, I won’t be prepared to enter the next phase of my life. 

And maybe with that, will come an ease to 
the tightness …
the stiffness … 
the churning. 

Is my stomach letting me know things need to change?

My stomach talks to me a lot. In fact that’s one of the ways I know if I’m making the right or wrong decision.

My stomach’s never wrong. 
It talks to me all the time. 
‘You don’t want to go tree planting? Well, I think that you need to!’
‘You don’t know if you love her or not? Well I think that you do!’
‘You don’t want to be vulnerable worshipping with strangers? Well I think that you need to!’
Always talking.
Always right.

How does my stomach know when my brain doesn’t?

So, what if my stomach isn’t telling me about my stress level or my upcoming checkup?
What if it’s trying to help me make a decision?
What is it? I wonder.

Stand up? Sit down?
Enter? Do not enter? 
Go faster? Go slower? 
Stop doing this? Start doing that?

Tight?
Stiff?
Churning? Not so much. 

Just talking to me. 

I wrote the first draft of this spoken-word poem on March 11, 2026, shortly after one of my first check ups. It turns out it wasn’t just a plumbing issue. You can read more about that here.

Photo is mine.