the dream life

flow

This is a morning of fresh starts.

The weather broke and I am able to come outside again. Woody got me up early, bless him, and brought me outside where he snuggled in to the wicker sofa on the front porch (his most favorite place) and I covered him with soft throw and he fell back into a deep sleep. It's raining, gently, and cool enough that he needs the cover, cool enough for me to wear a robe over my t-shirt and yoga pants.

I made my coffee and brought it to the table with my laptop and began working on the writing project that's been calling to me, the nonfiction thing that's been nagging at my consciousness. The writing this morning is coming easily, the words flowing on the screen like water.

I'm telling the story I need to tell.

So, Jamie's question, as always, has great resonance for me, Where do you wish to make a fresh start?

On this morning of fresh starts, the fresh start so immediately available and tactile, I turn my attention (again) to my physical well-being and what it means for me to listen to my body. My daily walks were ended by insufferable heat and humidity this summer and not replaced. The yoga mat languishes next to my meditation altar. 

I wish to make a fresh start here: in the muscle and bone. Let me begin to move again and move in new ways, stretching open, gathering strength. The walks, the poses, the way my body speaks as it moves through space. I wish to care for my physical self in a new and expansive way so that all aspects of this life flow the way the words are flowing this morning.

for Wishcasting Wednesday, 365project and the August Break.

Physical integrity

I kept drawing the Integrity card from my Angel Therapy deck and I kept thinking, well, um, yeah, I have integrity. Next card, please. (Because I'm like that. I give the angels a lot of back talk.)

But then I started thinking about what that word really means and whether or not the pieces of me were in alignment. Was I really living with integrity? Was I really living what I believed to be true, or was I just reading about ideas and agreeing with them and then putting something all together different into play in my day-to-day choices?

Breathing in the body

I think of Christine as my embodiment guru. I mean, she’s all kinds of gurutastic, but she’s really in her body. Her recent comment here and this post have me thinking a lot about embodiment and what that means because, you know, it’s sort of an issue for me.

I love the class I’m teaching right now and I noticed something the last time we met. We were doing some deep breathing in awareness of the sacral chakra and as I stood there demonstrating, pushing my belly outward, I realized that I was completely comfortable doing that. In my normal life, pushing my belly out on purpose is not something I do. Quite the opposite. But in class, talking about the body, the energetic body, the way all of this physical and spiritual and creative matter is connected, I felt confident and I felt good about my body.

In that moment, I inhabited my body in an authentic way and therefore, did not sit in judgment of it.

This month, love

I love the feeling of turning over to a new calendar page. Despite all of my iCals and phone apps and Outlooks, I still use paper calendars, too. At work, I have a giant calendar on my desk and it’s satisfying to rip off the old month and reveal a new month underneath. It fills me with delight to step out of the old and into a new and see that unmarred paper with the neatly penned-in appointments and blank days.

January felt longish to me, but now it’s history, and you know that I especially love these hot pink Valentine 28 days.

It’s also Imbolc today and the Feast Day of St. Brigid; this is a lovely post about the markers this time of year. And also this.

I have a lot of happy stuff going on this month, including the fact that I’m magically going to turn 40 for the second year in a row. So, despite the fact that upon waking this morning I was steadily greeted by 3 or 4 things that absolutely had to get done over the weekend but had not gotten done because I had completely forgotten about them (they were really important, too, like paying bills on time and putting gas in the car), it was a good day.

What yoga and massage are teaching me

along with their sidekicks breath and water.

I’m learning things about the body--my body and the body. My awareness of what it is to be in a body is shifting. These practices are making me aware of how routine it had become for me (and for many of us) to ignore or deny the body.

I mentioned to an acquaintance recently that it was my intention to become more mindful of my body, to listen to it and respond—to give it what it asks for and honor it so that it doesn’t have to scream in order to be heard. “Who doesn’t ignore their body?” she said “We all do; we have to.” Her point was that we live in this culture where many of us are expected to sit in chairs at desks for 8 or more hours a day. This is not just considered do-able, it’s considered normal. Her point was, why even strive for mindfulness? It’s impossible to do anything about this. So we listen when our symptoms get loud enough and we throw Band-aids at the symptoms but continue to ignore the root cause.

Saying yes

I practice yoga has been on my dream board for years. Why, you may ask, would something like that go on a dream board? If you want to practice yoga, then practice it. The truth is there are often things on my dream boards, wishes that I have for my life, that are completely accessible to me in any given moment. My block comes in motivation and perseverance and putting thoughts into action.

(Today’s TUT Note From the Universe: It's true, Lori-Lyn, the early bird gets the worm. So does the late bird and the bird in-between. Because by design, there are always more than enough worms. In fact, the only bird that doesn't get a worm, is the bird that doesn't go out to get one. Oh, to be alive.... The Universe)

It’s the going out to get one that gets me.

Back to the bend

One of the best things about my job is the access to free fitness classes every day during my lunch hour. For the most part, I take advantage of them - toning classes three days a week and yoga on Tuesdays. I love the young woman who leads yoga. She's gentle and centered and radiates a beautiful sort of kindness and contentment.
But a month or so ago, I had a meeting during class and couldn't go. It happened again the next week and after that, I just slipped away from yoga. I started walking on the track instead, which I enjoy (because I put on the pod and listen to Hay House and just move for 45 minutes). The track is on the third floor of the fitness building and studio where the classes are held is on the second floor. As I walked, I looked over, through the glass, and caught glimpses of the yoga class and I felt a pull to go back there even though I was grateful for the time to walk and even though walking doesn't challenge me the way yoga does.
Yoga is too hard, I told myself. Walking is better for me. Back in the way back of my head, I also knew that yoga class challenges me, not only physically, but emotionally as well. It's an intimate practice done in a public setting - in front of two walls of mirrors.
This morning, as I gathered my things for work, I left the headphones on the bedside table with an inner knowing that I was going back to yoga. I actually said, almost out loud, I'm going to yoga today. I didn't know I was going to make that decision but there it was - made.
So, I went to class and as I got out my mat and took off my shoes, I noticed that the trees outside of the windows were in bloom giving us a beautiful backdrop of flowers and sky. The instructor commented on that too, then she put on the music and we took our places. It was a small class, just four students total, and as we began, my muscles remembered what it is like to stretch and bend and flow back into my versions of the movements.
I have never been particularly flexible and it's one of the great lessons yoga holds for me - the reminder to be where I am without judgement or comparison. The other women in the class - college students - are thin and lithe. They wear camisoles with their yoga pants. From a cross-legged position, they bend at the waist and lay their bodies flat against the floor. I, in my giant t-shirt, bend as far as I can bend, which is sometimes, not far at all.
During my weeks away, I had grown unaccustomed to holding plank pose and when we got there today, my arms trembled. When I saw myself in the mirror, I was surprised at how red my face was.
Yoga can be work - hard work - but it's a good kind of work, the whole body and spirit engaged.
And I was glad to be back today, in the quiet room. I was glad to be where I was, beside the people who are where they are.
After class, I saw a young couple dancing in the sunlight. The woman was wearing a long flowing skirt and her feet were bare. Instead of wishing I could be that young again, thinner, I touched the truth - that we are all beautiful, wherever we are.

A little light

The early darkness - the dark that is already falling when I'm driving home from work in the afternoon - is getting to me. I'm not depressed or sad, just muted. And tired.
Last night, I wasn't sure what day of the week it was - could be Monday, could be Thursday. I truly wasn't sure.
This morning, I'm sitting here typing this when I should be up figuring out something to wear.
I have five or six impossible things to accomplish today.
Do I have the energy to complete the impossible? We'll just have to wait and see.
A little light would be good. Just a tiny peephole of a window would work.
I'm getting stronger, though. Yesterday in yoga, I could hold plank longer than usual and even attempted hover.
Yoga is like a window for me. A window into grace and the power of gentleness.