I've been meaning to put this to paper for so long. . . I'm not sure it will all come back correctly as I sit here to begin, so I'm freeing myself from that pressure by titling it "part one".
I was in the biggest rush that morning - I had just done a fabulous "yoga with live music" at Colony Hotel on a Sunday morning. . . I was late arriving, set up my mat and had an amazing practice.
At the end of class I rolled my mat, waved goodbye to friends, and rushed out to my car. I don't remember now where I was going, or why it was such a hurry. I walked up and unlocked my door, opened it, got in and rolled the window down.
Suddenly, I felt a tickling on my forearm. . . I looked down, and the most beautiful lady bug had landed on me. Instantly, I forgot all about my rush.
I looked at her (or him) and for some reason I was able in that moment to "be" just to "be". Be present, be conscious, be aware. The dots were each so distinct, the color of the tiny bug so bright against my beige skin over the grey asphalt.
I didn't shoo her away, I didn't drive off. I just sat there for a minute, and somehow that tiny buy accomplished for me what an hour and a half of yoga could not. . . it brought me into the now.
I guess the was the message of the Universe that day. . . like "here, be here, right now." It's funny what we can hear when we let ourselves listen.
I was in the biggest rush that morning - I had just done a fabulous "yoga with live music" at Colony Hotel on a Sunday morning. . . I was late arriving, set up my mat and had an amazing practice.
At the end of class I rolled my mat, waved goodbye to friends, and rushed out to my car. I don't remember now where I was going, or why it was such a hurry. I walked up and unlocked my door, opened it, got in and rolled the window down.
Suddenly, I felt a tickling on my forearm. . . I looked down, and the most beautiful lady bug had landed on me. Instantly, I forgot all about my rush.
I looked at her (or him) and for some reason I was able in that moment to "be" just to "be". Be present, be conscious, be aware. The dots were each so distinct, the color of the tiny bug so bright against my beige skin over the grey asphalt.
I didn't shoo her away, I didn't drive off. I just sat there for a minute, and somehow that tiny buy accomplished for me what an hour and a half of yoga could not. . . it brought me into the now.
I guess the was the message of the Universe that day. . . like "here, be here, right now." It's funny what we can hear when we let ourselves listen.
The universe sends us so many messages to us. I know after a close friend died, I found colorful rocks everywhere. That was something we connected over. After my grandmother, red birds everywhere. And when life was really scary, I found a butterfly resting on my shoulder as if to say everything was going to be okay.
ReplyDelete