Sa Re Ga

Last week I had a bit of a mini-meltdown which in hindsight I could argue came from a lot of upheval in the recent months.

I said goodbye to newly discovered kindered spirits. I left the home I had made for myself. I left a job to chase the dream. And in the process I packed up my life, slept on couches and never really had 10 minutes to just chill the heck out.

For some reason (perhaps it’s my ever present optimism) I expected to just take this all in stride and it wouldn’t back up on me, like I’d just change horses mid race, nevermind we’re running over cactai. Finally, it did catch up to me.

However, being the person I am I unpacked my arsenal of tricks to snap myself out of it. Tea. Reading. Art projects. Running. Exploring. Blogging. Even grocery shopping. And finally at the end of this weekend I returned to that quiet, complete happiness.

Today around 2:15 I knew the tables had turned for the better; one of my bosses gave me the positive reenforcement I was desperately seeking. It was about then that I remembered in my heart (as remembering in your head is a horse of a totally different color) something the Yogi taught me: it’s all about the little things. It starts in your breath, moves out into your body, then your interactions and your whole network of people. But everything big starts very, very small.

Miss Arizona had some good dreams. Virgo moved into her new home. The Samurai is in San Fran. My mom is coming for Young the Giant tomorrow. My sister and I bonded over literature. I painted for the first time in years. I will give a home to an animal who needs one.

And finally, I went to yoga. (I’ve been going on Thursdays but Mondays just call to me) if you’ve been reading, we’ve been talking or you could probably guess, I’m a firm believer in a little bending going a long way. Something about a literal slowing down and taking inventory can reset everything. It’s my time–all mine. Nobody can reach me. It’s just me and the mat.

I kid you not when I say this was no ordinary yoga class. I don’t know what I expected but certainly not that. We started unusually with my head on the mat in child’s pose. “you will be humble, listen to what your limbs are saying, they are always speaking” We created some short term muscle memory. “you are strong” And we, well I, sweat like you had set me down in death valley in july at high noon outfitted for a trans-antarctic excursion. “you will deal with it”

I’m not exaggerating — it was like rebirth. Slow and hot and sweaty and weird and not entierly unpleasant but certainly different. When I looked up again and it was time to pack up, I was wondering where I had been the past 75 minutes. (she even had Trevor Hall in the jam mix!)

As always, I thanked my teacher and I think somehow she just knew because something amazing happened. She hugged me. Total stranger who knew my name for approximatley 3 seconds hugged me.

The body calls out for what It needs and wow, I needed allllllll of that.

The wonderful thing about these guides (and i say guides because they all have lots of things to teach at the point they enter your life) is that theyre all kindered spirits of a certain kind. And wherever I go, with or without a teacher I know when my forehead hits the mat I’m in the most basic sort of home there is. My body, this moment, this breath.

I’m so thankful for it all. My whole existence. The tremendous highs and gutwrenching lows. The exemplary people I know and the ones that have changed me forever. The adventures, misadventures and moments of boredom. The Journey. Im thankful for it all.

And as if to say it was just waiting for me to arrive in this moment, the Universe sent me this omen. On my street. A permanent building. A place of beauty. Claiming a space that’s mine. APOSTRAPHE S, fools, I’m here to STAY.

Where I am is exactly where I’m supposed to be.


This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s