A rainy day in Baltimore city
An airplane flying overhead
Wind rustling the changing leaves
Drops of rain ending their descent
on asphalt, concrete, metal, glass, garbage
but also on earth, grass, flowers, trees,
and puppies scampering by with umbrella-ed owners
A neighbor sings as she walks down the street
The latest pop tune?
I don’t know,
I’m disconnected from that scene
I prefer to listen to the inner music,
the music that no one else can hear,
but maybe they can see
when they look at me
what a mixture of unconscious dissonance and
deliberate harmony can produce
in this human life
of sounds and silence.
As I take moments
to goof around with my kids,
just to sit, and smile, and laugh,
I realize how caught up
I had been in my work
the past month and a half.
They are growing up so quickly,
I see this now more than ever before.
After a month of frantically working
to prove to myself that I was ready
to stretch my wings,
I’m coming back home to myself,
my peaceful self,
my real self
and I see two precious children
who have grown up a little more.
Now I’m working on restoring balance,
and wondering how to maintain it
the next time I chose to stretch my wings
a little further.
The planning, the organizing,
the mulling, the agonizing—
The projecting, the waiting
the nervousness, anticipating—
The workshop is taught,
and I can get back to my normal routine again.
So tired, so so tired, so I won’t prolong this…but I wanted to bask a moment longer in the fact that it doesn’t matter how nervous I was going in to the workshop–the moment I saw my beautiful students’ faces, something shifted in me. These were regular students of mine who have been coming to my yoga class for years, students who are open and willing to explore. When I saw those radiant faces, immediately my mind was put at ease.
I love how life always works out in the end.
Whew! That’s the sound of me breathing a sigh of relief. I feel like I have my life back. There was so much anxiety in the moments leading up to the workshop, but once I saw my students arriving, I was really happy and therefore distracted from the anxiety . And I’m so glad it’s over; so excited that I can get back to sewing and being more of a presence for my husband and kids. And so glad I’ll be able to sleep tonight!
All of this searching,
and we finally discover
that the treasure is always right where we are.
Breathing in, this is enough.
Breathing out, creating more space.
In twelve hours I will be getting the room ready for my workshop.
It is already tomorrow, the day of my workshop,
but I’m writing this for Saturday,
which passed in the blink of an eye.
It’s funny to think about time,
how silly it all is actually,
how wrapped up in it I become,
and how this moment,
just as it is,
is all there is.
Hey everyone! I wrote this on Friday, October 18, and in my hurry to get to sleep, I totally forgot to press “publish.” Haha. I still wrote something…I just didn’t post it.
I must be stuck in the 1980’s
when copies were just 5¢ apiece…
After working hours, HOURS
on a presentation booklet for my workshop
and discovering that there were over 50 pages
to be printed for over sixty attendees,
I discovered that I couldn’t afford to print
copies of those booklets for everyone.
I did the math.
20¢ a page x 50 pages=$10
$10 per booklet x 60 attendees=$600
No can do.
And this doesn’t count the front page I designed.
If I wanted it printed in color– 59¢ per page
59¢ x 60 = $35.40
So now we’re up to $635.40
And I’m not even counting the spiral binding I wanted.
Now it was time to adapt.
I sat with disappointment.
Why didn’t I find out the expense first?
So much time lost. So much time.
Regret, annoyance, and then depression.
But a thought pepped me up–
I have the opportunity to touch 60 beautiful souls this Sunday.
I won’t give up.
I’ll make a shorter booklet.
I cut and slashed and hacked,
pared down…returned to the basics.
I did the math.
I can afford it now.
Now they’re printed,
and I am glad.
Time to sleep
After all this time spent,
this workshop better be damn good.
And that’s all I have to say.
Back to the grindstone. So much more to do before I’m ready. This is exactly what I didn’t want–working down to the last minute, but somehow it’s what I always end up doing. Time to practice some compassion and maybe let go of some of the unrealistic expectations. This won’t be perfect, because nothing is. Yet everything taken together is perfect, so maybe I can just trust in the everything.