hi friends,
i am writing to you today (per usual) from the midst of a busy morning.
we are getting ready to leave for the cabin, so after dropping Z i stopped at the co-op to pick up a couple last things—including an essential oil spray because my car is, well, not the most pleasant smelling car and we have to sit in it for ~6-7hrs to make it to the beautiful waters that line the upper edge of Minnesota where my mom’s cabin sits.
i have been thinking a lot about mornings recently. i started teaching an in-person yoga class on Monday’s at 9am, so at the start of every week i get to remind a room full of people to breathe and let go of everything that happened before they arrived on their mat. i get to remind myself to breathe and let go of everything that happened before i arrived in that room.
it is one of the most grounding rituals i’ve had in a long time, that simple reminder, that simple blessing.
after class this week a student came up to me and apologized—she had come in late and was worried she had disrupted the class (she had not) (she had walked very very gentle and barely made a sound). she explained that this was her first class back after having her second baby, she had a two-year-old and ten month old at home. it had been a busy morning. our studio had moved where the mats are stored. she had had to run downstairs to the front desk to find where they were kept now. she told me she loved the class, loved being back, and would try to make it to my class as often as she could, and if she wasn’t there it was just because it had been a hectic morning.
i assured her she had nothing to apologize for, that i was so glad she had made it to class, was so grateful to have been able to share energy and practice together. i also told her about how i had a 3.5yo at home and how we had in fact locked ourselves out of our house that morning, how my car keys were in the house, how we had had to call my mom to rescue us (thanks again
) so i could get Z to school and myself to class on time.you get it, she said. i do, i replied.
we all get each other, see each other, more than we think.
i promised her on days i didn’t see her in class, i’d send a little extra energy and blessing out her way to wherever her morning had taken her.
my ex-husband is a nurse on a surgical oncology ward. many of his patients are dying. the other night i called him to tell him about some of my most recent heartaches and breaks and he told me how he sees it everyday—dysfunctional families, un-healed wounds, estrangement, decades of hurt—we all have it, he said. and a lot of people, he told me, in the end, they find a way to be there for each other anyway. most people have people there witnessing their imperfection all the way till the end.
i don’t know what death and dying has to do with mornings, or blessings, except in the way that it has everything to do with both. in the way that every morning, every breath is an opportunity to begin again.
so for me, for you, for all of us a simple reminder, a simple blessing:
close your eyes and feel the heat of the sun against your skin. seal your lips and feel the air filling your lungs. feel your diaphragm gently pulling your spine, pressing the crown of your head into the space above you. breathe and let go of everything that happened before this moment. breathe and begin again. on purpose.
and a couple songs:
Thank you for this- it is taking me into my evening and my trip home. So lovely, so real. And grands with keys rule. I remember a similar morning when I was a single parent- my dad appeared in the car with the spare car seat, handed me his keys, and said, “ go!” No idea what was so important then, but I remember those keys and the fact he was there, and twenty years later that is all that really matters.💜
This: “i don’t know what death and dying has to do with mornings, or blessings, except in the way that it has everything to do with both.” What an important thought to carry with me on my solo walk at the forest preserve this morning.