Hard to impress
because she's already
seen the sun rise today
& it doesn't get
much better than that.
Most of my life I've had a pretty strong grounding, always known exactly who I am. Usually I have to keep myself from bursting with pride in who I am and who I want to be. Only a few periods of my life have left me lost and wondering who this person is inhabiting this shell of a body. One of those periods was in Spain. Completely displaced, with new families, a strange language and culture, and little practice being myself outside of what was familiar, I drifted in an out of self-knowledge. Some days, I'd have this spark of memory, an Aha! moment that brought me back to my spirit.
But sometimes I am just too far from my center. Even now, I don't know how to practice yoga when I'm thousands of miles from my teacher, Hilaire. I don't know what to do without my mornings, my music, my books and familiar places. Even my possessions...rugs, pillowcases, lamps, candles, small trinkets from my travels, help me to remember the life that I've been building.
And yet, there were things I searched for that I've only just found. My whole life, I never felt at home with catholicism. Suddenly, I happened upon unitarian universalism and I have a new home, a new space where I can be myself. I spent years unlucky in love, and now I am blessed by being in a relationship with the exact person I'd hoped to find: someone passionate, caring, fun and adventurous. I can really be myself with him.
And yet, these days, I have a hard time feeling that spark in me. I lack the knowledge of who I am and where I'm going. Perhaps I just need a reminder. Maybe I do this EVERY winter (it's true, sad to say). What makes me feel most true to who I am? What feeds my spirit and reminds me of the chorus of life stories that make up my journey on this earth? How can I celebrate being this beautiful light in a capable, versatile human body?
What inspires me? ¿Qué me inspira?
The resounding answer is...the morning. I am never more filled with possibility than in the early morning hours. I feel alive and liberated and completely at peace. In the evenings I am inevitably disappointed in how little I accomplished. But mornings, man. Those are inspiring. I can wash my face, drink a glass of water, and sneak down to take a look at the morning light. I can make myself a nice breakfast and read something beautiful or interesting. I can think about things.
During my senior year of college, when I lived with 5 other girls, I would often get up early on Saturdays just to have a few moments to myself. I'd make a cup of tea, sit in the living room and meditate or read or stretch. Just having time to enjoy being cozy; that was enough for me.
I like this Brian Andreas story because it gives so much value to witnessing the rising sun. I once hiked a pilgrimage that sun worshippers used to travel to see "where the sun died", "where the earth ended." People used to wonder if the sun would ever rise again. Each time it does is a miracle. And also, with this story, it emphasizes getting the most wonderful part of your day at the very beginning. Otherwise, you could wait all day for that thing to inspire you. And also, what's more impressive than seeing the sun rise? I can say I saw it every day for 5 months in the mountains, and it never got old.
because she's already
seen the sun rise today
& it doesn't get
much better than that.
Most of my life I've had a pretty strong grounding, always known exactly who I am. Usually I have to keep myself from bursting with pride in who I am and who I want to be. Only a few periods of my life have left me lost and wondering who this person is inhabiting this shell of a body. One of those periods was in Spain. Completely displaced, with new families, a strange language and culture, and little practice being myself outside of what was familiar, I drifted in an out of self-knowledge. Some days, I'd have this spark of memory, an Aha! moment that brought me back to my spirit.
But sometimes I am just too far from my center. Even now, I don't know how to practice yoga when I'm thousands of miles from my teacher, Hilaire. I don't know what to do without my mornings, my music, my books and familiar places. Even my possessions...rugs, pillowcases, lamps, candles, small trinkets from my travels, help me to remember the life that I've been building.
And yet, there were things I searched for that I've only just found. My whole life, I never felt at home with catholicism. Suddenly, I happened upon unitarian universalism and I have a new home, a new space where I can be myself. I spent years unlucky in love, and now I am blessed by being in a relationship with the exact person I'd hoped to find: someone passionate, caring, fun and adventurous. I can really be myself with him.
And yet, these days, I have a hard time feeling that spark in me. I lack the knowledge of who I am and where I'm going. Perhaps I just need a reminder. Maybe I do this EVERY winter (it's true, sad to say). What makes me feel most true to who I am? What feeds my spirit and reminds me of the chorus of life stories that make up my journey on this earth? How can I celebrate being this beautiful light in a capable, versatile human body?
What inspires me? ¿Qué me inspira?
The resounding answer is...the morning. I am never more filled with possibility than in the early morning hours. I feel alive and liberated and completely at peace. In the evenings I am inevitably disappointed in how little I accomplished. But mornings, man. Those are inspiring. I can wash my face, drink a glass of water, and sneak down to take a look at the morning light. I can make myself a nice breakfast and read something beautiful or interesting. I can think about things.
During my senior year of college, when I lived with 5 other girls, I would often get up early on Saturdays just to have a few moments to myself. I'd make a cup of tea, sit in the living room and meditate or read or stretch. Just having time to enjoy being cozy; that was enough for me.
I like this Brian Andreas story because it gives so much value to witnessing the rising sun. I once hiked a pilgrimage that sun worshippers used to travel to see "where the sun died", "where the earth ended." People used to wonder if the sun would ever rise again. Each time it does is a miracle. And also, with this story, it emphasizes getting the most wonderful part of your day at the very beginning. Otherwise, you could wait all day for that thing to inspire you. And also, what's more impressive than seeing the sun rise? I can say I saw it every day for 5 months in the mountains, and it never got old.
I've always liked the time before dawn
because there's no one around to remind me
who I'm supposed to be, so it's easier to remember who I am
because there's no one around to remind me
who I'm supposed to be, so it's easier to remember who I am
Maybe I haven't been taking the time to remember who I am. Maybe I wake up late and spend the day listening to what others think about me. Whatever it is, the cure is probably taking more time when I wake up to give myself a refresher. And also, I'm guessing that I need to talk to those people who have always kept me grounded. It's hard living so far away from the people that remember who I am when I forget. I grow tired, sometimes, of the thrill of new places and new faces; I'm over the rush of creating a new personality with each new zip code. As many people as I've met here in Rochester, I don't quite feel motivated to strike up new friendships. I get tired of telling my story. I just want to be with people who know everything about me. (This all gets especially complicated when I can't remember who I am. I end up telling lies and making up strange preferences and idiosyncrasies. In short, I stop caring about getting the details straight). What a nut job I am!
When I left Williamston and went to college, I came back with what can only be characterized as sheer terror over seeing people from my hometown. There are, of course, some circumstances that made me dread running into people at the mall (my highschool sweetheart dumped me, I gained weight in Spain, I was no longer a Jesus-loving goodie-two-shoes like everyone remembered...etc.) But in the end, I had remade myself in a good way, and didn't care to explain that to everyone I used to know. Sometimes I just demonstrated it through my liquor-consuming capabilities. (Maybe that wasn't the best part of my transformation, but whatever, I was 20.) All this is to say that I wasn't interested in people from my past because I didn't think they would recognize me after such growth. These days, though, I don't care about how much I've changed. I want to know that something about me has stayed the same. That I have some inherent spark that will always be a part of who I am. And probably in this slightly dimmer part of my life, I want to know that I have been something of which I am proud and could still be that now. (I told you, I'm a gloomy emo kid in January...)
Starting tomorrow, I'm not sleeping past 8am. If I can wake up 20 minutes before the sun rises, I will. Even if Adam sleeps till 11, I will relish my time to figure out what to do with that light that shines throughout my body. I will think of impossible things and start the day out right by giving myself the care I need right when I wake up. I will bask in the miracle of each rising sun.
The time is right; I'm gonna pack my bags
and take that journey down the road.
'Cause over the mountain I see the bright sunshine
and I want to live inside the glow
And with that, I'm going to set my alarm for the morning, get ready for the land where dreams are made.
Peace...
When I left Williamston and went to college, I came back with what can only be characterized as sheer terror over seeing people from my hometown. There are, of course, some circumstances that made me dread running into people at the mall (my highschool sweetheart dumped me, I gained weight in Spain, I was no longer a Jesus-loving goodie-two-shoes like everyone remembered...etc.) But in the end, I had remade myself in a good way, and didn't care to explain that to everyone I used to know. Sometimes I just demonstrated it through my liquor-consuming capabilities. (Maybe that wasn't the best part of my transformation, but whatever, I was 20.) All this is to say that I wasn't interested in people from my past because I didn't think they would recognize me after such growth. These days, though, I don't care about how much I've changed. I want to know that something about me has stayed the same. That I have some inherent spark that will always be a part of who I am. And probably in this slightly dimmer part of my life, I want to know that I have been something of which I am proud and could still be that now. (I told you, I'm a gloomy emo kid in January...)
Starting tomorrow, I'm not sleeping past 8am. If I can wake up 20 minutes before the sun rises, I will. Even if Adam sleeps till 11, I will relish my time to figure out what to do with that light that shines throughout my body. I will think of impossible things and start the day out right by giving myself the care I need right when I wake up. I will bask in the miracle of each rising sun.
The time is right; I'm gonna pack my bags
and take that journey down the road.
'Cause over the mountain I see the bright sunshine
and I want to live inside the glow
And with that, I'm going to set my alarm for the morning, get ready for the land where dreams are made.
Peace...
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