Up late getting ready.
Big day. Big weekend.
Today I taught three yoga classes.
Tomorrow I’ll teach three classes,
then I’ll lead a five hour training.
I made eye pillows to give the participants,
as well as training manuals
so that they can take the information with them.
I made a kale and quinoa salad
for our working dinner tomorrow.
All in all, it will be a twelve hour day…
Sunday I’ll teach three more classes.
And somehow, somehow,
I am to find the time and stamina
to PACK MY HOUSE
BECAUSE IT’S TIME TO MOVE.
I decided it’s not time to freak out.
Freaking out is an old, outworn habit,
and it really serves no purpose.
Instead, I’m choosing presence.
I’m showing up inside each moment,
clear on what the moment is calling for,
and doing that.
When it’s time to teach, I’ll teach.
When it’s time to eat, I’ll eat.
When it’s time to pack, I’ll pack.
When it’s time to move, I’ll move.
And when it’s time to rest, I’ll rest.
I am so grateful to have been brought to this simple place,
where I no longer need to chastize myself
for what I didn’t do sooner
In this simple place,
I see what needs to be done,
and I do that.
There is so much peace in the present moment.
I did it!
I taught FOUR yoga classes today, sweet lawd!
What amazes me about all of this
is that when I’m there with the students
I am so much in the zone
and so energized by the flow
that I feel awake even if I’m tired;
I feel strong even if moments before I felt weak.
Something magical happens when I do this work I love.
If you don’t yet have work that you love,
I highly recommend you find some.
It will make all the difference in the world, my friend,
it will make all the difference in the world.
All day long
I breathe in
I breathe out
most of the time unconsciously.
All day long
my eyes open
my eyes close
All day long
my heart beats—
but I don’t notice,
because I’ve been programmed.
The program tells me
I’ve get to get somewhere
and I’ve been living in this program,
asleep my entire life.
It’s time to wake up,
to ditch the old operating system
and install a new one.
It’s time for an update, an upgrade,
to remove the virus
and declutter the hard drive.
I’m ready to run the new program.
I’m ready to love just being alive.
It occurred to me
that if I want more joy in my life
I need to choose to enjoy each moment.
Life is made up
of everyday, simple moments,
repetitive tasks, things that need to get done.
If I’m rolling my eyes and groaning
every time I need to tidy up,
go grocery shopping,
do the laundry,
pick up after my kids,
I’d be constantly miserable.
But if I could cultivate a mindset
of gratitude and joy
for each of these simple moments,
day by day and breath by breath,
they would all add up to a joyful life.
I don’t need to defer my happiness
for someday, for one day,
for whenever this or that comes to pass.
Happiness is now,
where it always was,
where it always will be—
right here in the present moment.
This evening at dusk
I hiked down to the reservoir,
admired the beauty of the water,
the sky, the play of light on everything,
the way the breeze was ruffling my hair…
I put in my ear buds,
played a medicine song* on my phone
and sang along.
I stepped barefoot onto some rock slabs
that sloped into the water,
stretched my arms to the sky.
Then I began to dance.
I felt so wonderful and free.
Then I noticed across the way,
on the other side of the water,
maybe fifty yards away
someone was sitting there
on an outcropping of rock with a dog,
A young man, he was too far away
for me to tell how old…maybe a teenager?
And guess what?
I KEPT DANCING.
I thought to myself,
Well, he gets to be entertained, then.
And I kept dancing, and doing yoga,
because it felt good.
I just kept singing and dancing,
and he just kept watching me
from across the water, with his dog.
I danced unselfconsciously.
I danced for the wind and the water
and for my heart that was yearning open
in the setting sun.
I danced for the woman who grieved for two years
the loss of her husband’s love
and who is now free to love herself
better than any man ever has.
Then the breeze picked up
as twilight descended.
I collected my things, slipped my shoes back on,
ready to hike back up to my car.
I turned around to see the young man across the water
beginning his climb up the rocks with his dog.
I put my hands together at my heart and bowed to him.
I silently wished that he would find his heart’s true joy.
I’ll never know who my audience of one was…
I’m just glad that I kept dancing.
*I listened to “Healing Angels,” “Amataye,” and “Ayahuasca Takimuki” from the Sacred Valley Tribe collection of medicine songs.
I know now that it had to happen.
I’ve come to this realization before,
so bear with me, but you know how this works.
We keep circling and circling and circling back
to the same old stuff until one day we get it,
and we can finally set off on a new trajectory.
It had to happen.
I was comfortable, and comfort was making me complacent.
I knew deep down I was meant for more.
I longed to be met at my depth,
to be seen and held and loved by someone capable
of seeing my value and loving the woman that I was.
It wasn’t happening, and a part of me grieved deeply.
It wasn’t happening, and I resigned myself to a love
not quite deep enough to be congruent with my true nature.
I yearned for more, so deeply in my heart I yearned,
and a voice said that I was fooling myself,
that such a love wasn’t possible in this world.
I was determined to do the work inside myself,
to search for where I felt unmet and dissatisfied,
and discover how I could meet and satisfy myself.
Hence the meditation, the writing, the reading,
the sewing, the knitting, the kombucha making,
the therapy, the workshops, the trainings,
the research, the practice, the commitment to arete.
I secretly thought I was doing him a favor
putting up with his lack of depth, his lack of vision,
his inability to penetrate me fully to the core of my being,
to flower me open to bigger possibilities,
to take me open to God.
Well if this is it, I told myself,
then I may as well make the most of it.
So I kept going.
And then it happened.
He dumped me. ME.
Me, the mother of his children.
ME, his WIFE.
Me, his yoga teacher.
Me, his partner, his best friend.
He threw me away.
It had to happen.
It took a while, but I see this now.
At times I look jealously at intact families,
and I’m triggered by what was stolen from me.
But then my new mindset arrives and reminds me
It had to happen.
The comfort was making me complacent.
I had to be made extremely uncomfortable
to be forced out of this nest, this cocoon,
this cage of material wealth,
where my needs for food, clothing and shelter were met,
and the price I paid for it all was my authentic happiness.
I look back on who I was and I shudder.
I look forward to who I know I will be and I shiver.
I look within to the one I am now and I smile,
at peace with the fact that sooner or later,
it had to happen.
I wake up gently before the sun
and my first thought is
Thank you. Thank you for another day on this planet.
I am excited for the possibilities of this day.
I remember my children will meet their teachers.
I remember I have laundry to do.
I remember that I need to start packing up this house.
I remember that this can all wait
until I sit, and check in with the Source,
the consciousness within me
that spins out all of these perceptions
and weaves them together to create
the experience of a single mother
waking up to greet another day.
If I am right with the One within,
then my day will flow with beauty.
I am grateful for this time.
I remember that although I have a body
I am not simply this body. Or this mind.
Or these circumstances.
I am Spirit, clothed in form,
and the degree to which I can remember
and stay present
is the degree to which my light will shine
to illuminate the form in which I move
and breathe and express,
the degree to which my circumstances
will be illuminated, my choices made clear,
my committment firmed,
my conviction made manifest in action.
And so, first things first.
I wake up, and I sit.
And it is good.