On my hands and knees, I plant my palms in the earth and claw with my fingertips clumps of dirt back and forth until big chunks become fine grain. Head down, heart open, I feel the earth - the dirt. My idea of feeling something exquisite, something that whispers, Soul, open. Side by side, I watch seeds and bulbs begin to spring forth, beautiful growth mirrored back to me, while Sully and his pal play "house" in a fort and a very busy robin flies back and forth collecting bits and pieces for her nest, eyes on us.
This week marks my fourth week in the studio on the mat. I noticed yesterday while in baby cobra pose a thought. It's not about why didn't I do this sooner for myself. It's about listening to myself when something calls out to me and, as best as I can at the time, act on that calling. In our poses we focused on resetting our intentions. Allowing old dirt to exhale away like gray smoke and allow new purpose to come in on the inhale. We worked to create space for light and all that newness to move in.
Earlier this week I walked each of my boys just before bedtime to the top of our staircase where we have a big window. I simply picked them up one at a time and held them up to the beautiful view of dusky sky. What do you see? I asked. Eyes open wide, searching. Eyes sparkling. The Moon! The moon!
Did you see it?
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Currently:ReadingListeningMaking
Loving:That words are windowpanes in a ransacked hut, smeared by time's dirty rains, we might argue likewise that words are clean as glass till the sun strikes it blinding--Adrienne Rich, Transparencies
