On the first breath - it came as a relief.
This quiet...after all of the noise. This stillness....after all of the churning emotion. This pause....in the never-ending push to move myself through it. Onwards...and to the other side.
Although familiar...this pose felt new. Never before had I experienced it from this particular point-of-view. I needed not answer the questions as to where it was that I was going. I could be only here. In this now. In this pose. In this day.
On the second breath - it was feeling uncomfortable. I was wanting to return to my old habits and routines. I was wishing for all that I do to distract and detract. I started looking for that exit sign and way to anywhere other than here. In this now. In this pose. In this day.
I was reminded of the teachings. To stay the course. To breathe - long and deep and slow. To find that comfort in this discomfort. The magic - I'd been taught - happens within the pose. The practice only just begins in that moment you find yourself so desperately wanting to come out.
Thirty days - I'd promised myself. A respite. A gift. A time of inner connection. Carved out space - in which I might look back without needing to look forwards. To feel. To reflect. To absorb.
It's so easy to rely on the momentum to keep on moving. It's the letting go and standing still that's so impossibly hard.
I've been stalking the herons. I've been silently observing - learning from one of nature's most elegant and patient teachers. I've watched as they wait....as they concentrate and focus...as they ground down before they strike. I've found myself lost in their in perfect stillness...and found again in the grace and energy and beauty of their flight.
There have been moments of sadness and confusion....and there have been more moments of clarity and light. I find myself with a renewed sense of purpose and direction....a clearer vision....a stronger intention. I've re-designed my online space for my art. I've re-discovered my passion. I've re-connected with my heart.
On this third breath - I'm returning and beginning again. This summer's practice has practically un-done me. Two children married...and one mother gone. The landscape has changed. Everything is new. Everything is different.
And - I'm still here. And - I still am.
Walking. Looking and seeing. Feeling it all....and recording it thru and with my camera's lens.
This now. This pose. This day. What an extraordinary gift. To return. And - always - to have the opportunity to begin again.
On that first breath.