On Stillness and That Small Voice

The weather has turned...dark at five o'clock, today the first rain arrived. Not that cold, but definitely time for boots and cardigans and a scarf looped around my neck. With the dark comes a change in my mood, always. A reflective change, a going inwards, sometimes to places that feel dark themselves.

This year though, I am trying to find the light inside through whatever means I can. Yoga is helping...Therese and I go on Sundays now to a much loved class, which is a mixture of Yoga and meditation. Last week we did twenty eight sun salutations and I felt so amazing when I made it through all of them, with a vibrancy and a fullness in my heart and body. It was challenging, yes, but also wonderful. Then stretching and that lovely final reward of Savasana, my legs propped up on a bolster, a woven blanket over me, my mind finally quiet.

Also, of course, books. Ed Bacon has written a book, The Eight Habits of Love, and I am reading it slowly, trying to take it in instead of just buzzing through it like I tend to do. He writes of finding the stillness, in whatever way you need to get there, of its rejuvenating power, its necessity. And I do find it in yoga, in my walks, in my writing. This is the first time I've sat down to write in ages, a gift I am giving myself. An iced tea, a grilled cheese sandwich with spinach at Old Soul at the Weatherstone, sitting on the well worn leather sofa with my macbook in my lap. My feet are up on the bottom rung of the coffee table and my soul is at peace. Surrounded by music and people, still. It is truly lovely. Chloe is in acting class and instead of going back to work, or to Bernado or Tower, I came here, to somewhere that truly feeds me.

I've not written on my blog in so long...scared away by GOMI and fear of revealing too much. Busy with Teddy and all that he has brought into our lives, tired at night. But it's feeling like the window is opening again in a small way. I am feeling a little touch of sunlight sneaking through here, beckoning me. I know it's not about writing for other people or growing an audience of readers. Somehow it's about this, right here, finding my center and maybe sharing that.

Also, gratitude. I've been needing to go there so badly, to focus on what is working, on being kind to people, to myself. Teddy is really doing so much better, and there are moments on our morning walks around the big field when I feel transcendent when I look into his eyes in a watch me. When I see him frolicking in such apparent and overwhelming joy and I am allowed to witness, to share in it with him. Or when he curls up next to my body at night, pressed tight against me. When sometimes he puts his big head on my shoulder or on the pillow next to me and I can feel his breath. Happiness.

I am wanting more soul time in my life. This morning I heard a radio show, just a snippet of it, where Cheryl Richardson suggested writing out questions...what do you want, which of those are things you think you should want, what does your soul want? I need to spend some time pondering those things and finding a way to fit more of what I truly want into my life and filtering out some of the other. I spend so much time shopping and picking up our house, commuting and being worn out at the end of the day that it isn't conducive to how I really would choose to spend my time. I think it's just a click here and there that will make it better, not a whole life overhaul, although heaven knows my mind likes to go there. To that fantasy of my little house downtown and growing my organic vegetables and fruit trees and volunteering with dogs, of living with much less. And maybe there is some of that I can incorporate, while still valuing the things that I do have, the people who I have chosen to love. I just need to spend some time thinking on it, give myself some space to go there.

This, tonight, is a start. There can be more of this. More time to write and reflect. A choice is all it is. A choice to take care of myself, to value that small voice inside of me, to let it out.

It feels wonderful.