My mind was full and my body sore as I fought with myself about getting out of bed this morning.
Yesterday’s movements were plentiful and the memory was still very much alive in each cell of my being. Muscles ached, new knots appeared, bones felt weary and my lower back was screaming at me.
My mind, however, made the most noise.
Perhaps today I would practice sitting, or eating mindfully. Maybe the focus of my practice would compassion. Or grace. Or laughter. Maybe I would practice taking a moment each hour to go outside and look up. I wanted my practice to be really good today. I wanted my practice to be so good and profound and moving so that I could write an eloquent and witty reflection of said practice.
And so the stories began.
The story of how I was going to tell the story became the story and each time this happened, letting go of the story became my practice.
This is how the day really went:
Get up. Stretch with dog. Feed cats. Walk dog. Feed dog. Train dog. Restorative practice. Meditate. Pranayama. Tea. Toast. Read. Respond. Acupuncture. More tea. Kiss my love. Chat. Coffee shop. Dog park. Shower. Kiss my love. More tea. Chat. Teach a restorative class. Buy epsom salts. Take dog out. Talk to animals. Clean house. Wash dog. Make dinner. Eat dinner. More tea. Write post. Read book. Sleep.
And now, it’s time to let it go.