The light from my bedroom sneaks over to the edge of the adjoining room. The sun has yet to rise and it is quiet. We sit cross-legged on the floor at the edge of my ashtanga rug – each in our own space, with our own slurry of thoughts running through the quiet space we share.
In the center of my head, thoughts of the upcoming trip ricochet around. Mentally, I run through the final preparations (mostly unfinished packing for YaYa) and reflect on my mock up, if-you-will, for the journey ahead. This is not mindfulness or mindlessness; it is more like madness. But it is where I am at today so I accept it.
It is fitting that theMan and I have come together in the same room this morning, rather than meditating in separate rooms as we have done in the past. As both of us prepare to travel the same path, we also acknowledge each of us are on our own journey. We will each experience and grow from this trip in a different way. Yet, similar to us sharing our meditation space this morning, we will be together.
All week, I have kept my enthusiasm curbed. I am truly ecstatic about my trip, yet I need some way of balancing out the edginess that runs through every cell of my physical body. Here, with my eyes closed and my heart open, I focus on my breath. In… Out… In… Out…
About the time I find my peacefulness, Father Time reminds us that this planned retreat from the everyday has not yet begun. He pulls us out with the sound of Tibetan bowls’ sweet song. We open our eyes to see the sun has begun its ascent. So lucky are we to be here, as another beautiful day begins to unfold.