This is my entry for Day 2 of 21.5.800 – 21 days of writing 800 words a day and doing yoga 5 days a week. Today I did Yoga for 90-minutes at Mukta Yoga. My writing below is under 800 words. But it reached a point of release and I was good with it. Namaste.
21.5.800 Day Two
The storm came booming off the hills into Marquette and down to the harbor at 1:00pm. I watched as I did dishes. The blooms in the yard stood out in deep purples as the sky darkened to gray and everything drank up the wet of a summer thunderstorm.
Earlier today, I rode to Yoga at Mukta Yoga downtown a 90-minute gentle session that calmed my body. Lisa’s words, “deepening the relationship with yourself” clung as I left yoga and picked up peaches and organic bananas at Farmer Q’s. As I rode up third street toward Fair and on to Lakeview Arena I took in the feeling of enjoying a summer.
At Lakeview I picked up my third place prize from the 5K I ran this past weekend. A simple river stone polished and now hangs on my chest. I am happy in the elemental nature. It’s brown color. Earthy and River. Deepening my relationship with self, means embracing this land around me. Connecting to my source. Following the Dead River upstream. Sitting near falls.
The dishes are done. The rain falls steadily. The soil aroma floats up into the thick wet air. I enjoy a mug of strong coffee in the last hours before my 3-11pm shift at the group home, tonight.
I think about the choices I am making in my art, my life, and those that communicate well with my whole being. I am thinking about the new friends I am making.
This morning I woke tense, with anxiety. I had not slept well at all. Anxious dreams. Yoga reminded me to be present in the moment. Not fear what was behind me or in front of me. Instead, I moved into my belly. I felt my active legs, cling the bones and support me. I stood in Warrior II with soft gaze. In Savassana I let myself deeply rest knowing that this moment was a perfect moment of calm and acceptance.
But I was already planning once on the bike, planning how I might do Yoga in the yard, tomorrow. Perhaps right in the mud of the veggie garden with young plants and sprouts all around. I was already planning my lunch. Salmon, cilantro, brown rice, asparagus. The zip of garlic, the tang of balsamic vinegar and the sweet of minced red pepper.
The coffee fogs my reading glasses and I sit cross-legged with laptop in a room darkened by storm clouds. The cat sits on the exercise bike seat staring out at the raindrops, waiting for the starlings and robins that will certainly come soon to eat worms.
The cat’s tail will twitch as he watches. He wants to be a hunter. He wants to be a lion. Even he has a hard time some days accepting that he is a house cat. Not farm cat. No tom cat. Not part of a pride on the Serengeti. We are in Marquette Michigan, a place on the shore of Lake Superior, a great lake, wide and deep.
And he is a House Cat.
And I am?
As I rode my bike, the wind was strong and challenging but there was not a cloud in the sky. But that wind spoke of what pushed it. I was already happy that I chose my ride early in the day.
I find myself looking past today, past Thursday, to Friday morning and beyond. I am thinking of how much time I have to volunteer. How much time I have to write, clean, cook, create. I am calculating minutes and how to balance it with family and friends. I’m losing that deep relationship with self the one that slows me down to moment by moment love and acceptance of “now”.
In this now. I am breathing. I can sing. I can chant OHHhhhhhhhhmmmmm.
In this moment, the air smells of rain and storm, wild rose. And the lavender vanilla candle beside me.
But work is tugging me back, saying time to prepare for the day. Get ready. Move forward.
It is work that makes me calculated how many minutes I can take back. I am not my job. I like my job. But I am not the work or tasks. I am the yogini chanting my story. Here. With keyboard on my lap.
Word count: 712