And so I try, I try to be more ‘in the moment’ because it struck me for the millionth time as I lay in bed yesterday morning that I’m always either in the past or the future – a future that I’m perpetually planning and never get to; a future that keeps getting farther away. Today WAS the future I’d dreamt of once and so I tried.
I lay my head on the pillows and listened to the birds outside chirp. A few stirred around the corner of the room. It was warm inside and frigid outside but I went out into the hall anyway, after a while.
I stretched, lay down my yoga mat and got through three cycles of the surya namaskar before I felt a sharp pain in my back. I felt it all, thoroughly, my sinew angry in protest. It was an unpleasantly warm morning and my muscles were hard, set, unwilling to move and I’d pushed them too hard. So I sat on the settee with the ants who’d followed me from the bedroom to the hall.
On calmer days such as these, I try not to push myself into a lot of things. I try to think about why I’m here, I try to be kind to myself.
Love has diffused into everything we do, it’s become an everyday affair. It’s subtle poetry, not a song that explodes out of our mouths anymore. It’s how the stars go around — over ages, silently but beautifully still.
I don’t know about the trajectories of our stars, where we’re going or where we’ll end up. Or how we’ll end. I don’t understand the pressure to decide things NOW and here that my parents have recently been putting me under.
On that note, I don’t know what to say to my mother these days. I feel like we’re drifting apart even though I say all the right things to my parents. I love them but I’m a little sore because I’ve been clasped too hard all my life.
Until next time, love.