A Long Breath

Ok, so 2010 hasn't exactly been the stellar year I'd hoped for so far...in short, my work life (yes, my WORK life) has been so over-the-top, insanity-filled, really-crazy-busy-no-I-mean-really-crazy-busy that somehow January has nearly passed me by...not only without a new post here, but without even the time to READ the blogs that I usually (daily) enjoy.

I have, however, luckily made time recently (somehow) to get to yoga (one of my resolutions not just for the New Year, but for life in general). Two things, it's been ages since I've been...yes, I let the holidays (starting waaaay back in October with the boy's birthday) interfere in so many ways. I could blame it on my husband's crazy flying schedule, but I can think of at least five distinct times that I could have gone but either 1. chose not to due to laziness/grif time/jim time/steph time/laziness, or 2. I honestly did not think of it until it was too late...I'm blaming these on the holiday-induced sugar coma that I happily, willingly indulged in throughout.

So it had been awhile, and last Sunday, after my triumphant return to the hot yoga studio I love, I could definitely feel the missing time. My balance was off, my muscles sore and not at all accustomed to the poses I was forcing them to remember...but it was good. Yoga always is.

I went again last night -- after a horribly long, once-again-over-busy day at work, braving the insane rainstorm last night to get there, all of which made it so much more inviting to just stay at home and cuddle up on the couch instead of subjecting my body to the heat and sweat again...but I went anyway. And I swear it was hotter -- significantly so -- than any other class I'd been to. But somewhere in the middle, I think I may have crossed a road -- even with my month-plus absence -- for the first time, I felt my breath and my body push over a line I had not known existed. I was tired, drenched, somewhat defeated, but all of of sudden in the middle of Warrior II, I felt....powerful. Intensely, quietly, fiercely POWERFUL. I could almost feel my whole body vibrating with this strangely silent energy and control. And I reveled in it, felt it, took it all in...all with one long breath. And another....and another...

Afterward, standing in line at Chipotle to finish my eve with a healthy dinner (and yes I ordered healthy there!), looking in the glass at my reflection (which was still beet red, with soaked hair, and more than a little disheveled), I realized that I looked -- no, I felt -- taller. Yes, taller. Larger than life. Thinner even. I felt more.

I was totally exhausted afterward, mentally as well as physically. But in a good way -- a fulfilled way -- quite unlike the exhaustion that (I've let) work as of late drag me down into. And as I lay in bed that night, I lamented the fact that I'd let this blog -- this wonderful outlet -- go dormant for what seemed like much too long. And though this is not the entry I intended today, this is still nothing I truly have time for (here at work), this is much much longer than I wanted, it's here. Again. Finally. And I'm giving a good part of the credit to my yoga class last night. The rest goes to me, for getting there and doing it again. And for getting something even more than I planned out of it. Strength. Health. Presence. Peace. Rest. Breath. All of it oh so good.

Rest, sweet rest

The TV is off, the book is shut...the light is still on, but soon to be extinguished as everything else that has wound down on this lovely, full-mooned night. To rest. Repose, sleep. Freedom from activity or labor, a place for resting, peace of mind or spirit, quiescent, motionless, free from anxieties, a letting go...those of you following along will know exactly where I got this list.

Sigh. To rest. I crave sleep (always, as a mother with a wee boy and a husband who's a pilot)(although I think it's par for the course for any mother, the rest is just extra). I live for the weekends when I can revel in a two-hour nap in the afternoons -- stolen time while the boy sleeps as well. Quiet-time just for me, on the couch in the living room...sweet, sweet naps!

But there's something to be said for the preparing of the night -- the night coming on, the feeling of sleepiness, the quiet that covers everything not unlike the cozy blankets on one's bed. I like -- no, love -- the idea of tiptoeing around the house, trying not only to keep from disturbing the sleeping Griffin, but to also not disturb this film of quiet, the aura of impending motionlessness, the glaze of heavy eyes and soon-to-be sweet dreams. I've been thinking about this nighttime silence for some time now, but of course, have totally succumbed to it and the much-needed slumber before I could take a few minutes to write about it (revel in it)...

Sunsets rather than sunrises. Always for me. The closing of the day -- regardless of how much was accomplished or left undone, how good or bad, successes or failures -- has a magic all its own. Is it hope? A promise of things to come when the day dawns anew? A peacefulness that comes from knowing that regardless of its events, this day has had its time and is now nearly over, past and complete? Or is it just sweet release from the day's busyness, craziness, go-go-goingness? A bit of all of it, but most of all, a letting go. A real sense of peace, not just peacefulness. Dropping the shoulders. Fully gathering the yawn, cozying under the covers, and resting. At rest. Ah, rest.