I Got Up On the Wrong Side of Myself

I got up on the wrong side of myself. On a usual day, I would’ve seen it right away, hit the meditation cushion, and reconvened body, mind, and spirit.

This morning, I jumped right up out of bed and somehow found myself immediately in front of the computer. Email, email, email. You know how it goes. The day got all turned around, the urgently unimportant emails kept on coming in, the papers needed shuffling, and I had a completely inexplicable feeling of time pressure. Nothing really had to get done, but a feeling prevailed of not having nearly enough time to do to it all.

After too many hours of rattling around, literally bouncing off the walls, I caught sight of my meditation cushion. One of the benefits of working from home. I set the timer, plunked myself down, and thought: I’m going to pretend that my ass is glued to this cushion until things quiet down. I considered velcro instead of glue, but that seemed too easy. It was more along the lines of crazy glue, dries quick and won’t let go.

It worked. Thankfully it works every time. I could really see the windy mind, the fizzy mind, whizzing around and pulling me along with it. I considered the things that maybe could help weigh me down a bit, bring me back to earth. Food? Sleep? These were my immediate fall-backs, but not really available from the cushion. Meditating on sound brought me into the room. Concentrating on the breath steadied me. Awareness of body sensations really, really helped.

And even so, it was one of those sits when I just wanted to jump right off the cushion and… DO stuff. All the stuff I was planning, all the ideas, all the things that needed doing right now, pretty much stayed with me up until the final bell.

Clearly, my inner border collie still wanted a walk. After the sit I went around the hill once… twice… three times. The first time around, I felt tired. The second time around, I felt strong. The third time around, I finally felt myself drop back into my body. Whew!

At last, I put on really comfy clothes and warm socks, and I went to a restorative yoga class. Not just any class; this was the legendary Friday afternoon restorative class of my friend Britt Fohrman.
Such a treat to rest into the embrace of the practice. By savasana, I finally felt like myself again. Back on the earth and embodied, and just in time for a long weekend. Once again, saved by the practice.

How grateful I am that this is possible and available to me, especially on the fizzy and windy and frazzled days. Gratitude for the cushion, for the hill, and for the class.

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