Everything in the Universe has a rhythm, everything dances. ~Maya Angelou
"I'm here now."
He climbs into bed next to me at 6am, munching a granola bar, leaving the last little bit. I put the rest on the nightstand and he wraps his arms around my belly and breasts.
"I'm going to snuggle for about 5 hours." Then he falls asleep.
I untangled and got up to grab my coffee from him. I had feelings of regret about how I handled an interaction at night. Was I taking responsibility for his feelings and not letting him have them out of my fear of not being in control or just trying to explain and justify because I couldn't say what I really needed in the night?
I sip my coffee. Climb back into bed.
I went running on a knee that should have been rested. I ran until the pain was so deep because I just wanted to be out of breath, pushing. I am so pissed that this thing I have chosen is hard in ways I didn't imagine.
I thought I could just run my way into my happiness. As though happiness meant I wouldn't feel it anymore.
Grateful I can take a day off of showering after my run because I didn't sweat.
I push. Even (especially) for happiness, I push.
He woke up when he heard Pokemon (Digimon? Something obnoxiously-mon) on the tv. They get to watch a show at 7:30 each morning so I can have 25 minutes of stillness around me and make breakfast and lunches.
Up on the couch as close to his brother as he can get without sitting on top of him, his sleepy eyes go right into the fantasy world.
I see how relaxed he is. Chocolate granola bars, mama snuggles, Pokemon with his best friend, scootering around the living room.
My insides scream at The Universe in prayer, "I can't relax, please let me push. I am really pissed at you right now. I just started."
And what if I whispered instead of yelled?
What if I packed each day like a picnik on the beach?
What if I closed my eyes and cried while they listened?
What if I stopped waiting and plunged into cold water?
What if my moment now became the next moment of pleasure?
What if ease was not a concept but a daily practice as I unwind from bed each morning?
What if the green sharpie replaced the dried up black one?
What if I openly let them be who they are, making space for the magic of who I am?
What if I stopped believing that their behavior is how my happiness is created or torn?
What if I gave them space enough to be themselves, fully and wholly their own self and decided only my own self?
What if I let five minutes each day only be about receiving the vibrations that are pure happiness?
What if my emotional core let me run in the rain while writing lists of things I love in my head?
What if vows fell away so that finally I could feel my own skin, and let them feel theirs?
What if my practice of ease let back in delight and truth and me?
What if my vision of connection meant believing my feelings?
What if the New Moon in its dark sky opened it up so that it could be so, already was so, is so?
I told him I was sorry, heard myself list excuses and reasons. The truth was I had just needed to stay with myself and didn't choose it. I pushed through, fearing my alone, he would have accepted it openly. The alone feels stuck, not free. I have to re-learn, in newness.
I make the list in my head... if chocolate granola bars were eggs benedict, if mama snuggles were hour and a half long massages, if Pokemon was a romantic comedy, if scootering around the living room were a walk on the beach.
Yielding in pigeon pose I feel my hips open and my knee relax. I set my timer on the phone for three different pick up times, for three different kids. I use the stop watch function to time plank pose.
If I make it to 50 seconds I'll let myself have a second cup of coffee.