A New Day

I have been sleeping with my head in the same direction on my bed for many years now. Last night I was sitting on my bed in the evening and felt compelled to put my head down in a totally different position, so I did. I slept like I was in another world.

I had many dreams about doing things differently than I have done before and spending time with new people I hadn’t met yet or didn’t know all that well. I was really enjoying it and learning a lot, but I was also very concerned that the new ways were going to disrupt the old ways, familiar consistent habitual ways that I thought I needed to maintain in order to be okay.

And disrupt they did. In a way that showed me the old patterns were not as stable or supportive of me as I had imagined. I was angry and hurt at first. Then I began to recognize. I was also freed.

Even my breathing pattern changed as I made this shift. I started to notice that although there were things that were passing there were also aspects that seemed to thrive in the space that was freed by putting myself in new positions, by moving in new directions. There had been no time or room to grow being stuck repeating the same old things, even if before it had felt familiar and therefore safe.

As I woke my perspective was quite different, literally and figuratively. My cat was really happy to get to lie in the spot I usually lie in that at times we fight over. As my granny used to say, “It’s a new day Neissy.”

Can’t hold on to the old day.
May as well face the dawn.

I mentioned to my son last night I was going to sleep in a new direction and he said he changes the direction he puts his head all the time and encouraged it.
Evolution.

I awaken with the resolve to keep stepping forward into the reorganization with less fear of the accompanying dissolution. To just keep going, see how it grows.

The Subtleties of the Sunrise

How many times
Can I watch the moon set at sunrise
While driving this same stretch of highway
To teach the same yoga asana postures
To the same types of people
In the same rooms
And ride the same trails
On the same mountains
And sleep with the same man
In the same bed
In the same house
In the same town
Before it loses it’s novelty
And becomes rote?

These are the questions
I used to contemplate
As I hastily sped to work
At 6:30 in the morning
Praying I wouldn’t be late.

Sometimes
I noticed the subtleties of the sunrise.
And that the moon was never in the same place.

And neither was I.

Awakenings
Come slow and steady
Like the sunrise
Until sometimes
With a flash
Everything is illuminated
Revealing what you couldn’t see before
In crisp vibrant clarity.

Now I leave early
In wonder
Of where the light will first crest the horizon
In awe
Of the hue that ridges the mountaintops
And defines the boundary
Between earth
And sky.

It is never the same.

Nor are the asanas
Or the people I share them with.
Even the rooms have changed.
The consistency and texture of the snow is always variable
The landscape shifts with the blow of the wind.
I can taste the humidity
And smell the storm in the distance.
Sometimes we we skate on the lake
And sometimes
We swim.

The eccentricities of each encounter.
Even when it looks the same
The nuances distinct.
The novelty
The consistent everchanging
Subtleties
Never knowing
Until maybe
When I’m in it.
Every moment a transition
And always
Right now.
Noticing.
Being.
Always interesting.

I mostly sleep alone now
In my own house
Or my own car
Or on couches
Or in the bed of the forest
As I drive this same stretch of highway
It has never become boring
And it has never
Been
The same.