Thursday, December 29, 2016

Yesterday I Was Alive, Today My Heart is Beating Me Awake

How many yesterdays have I had at forty years old? Looking back at yesterday, ignoring the present, smothering the future. 

Yesterday, I went to the rec center pool with my daughter. It was crowded with other parents and children. Winter break, the week after Christmas, and all of us hanging on by threads - anticipating the future return of school's starting bell. Bye, I love you, have a great day. [quiet sigh] 

The indoor pool is beautiful. Mostly clean, open, lofted, ceilings with huge wood beams, and low lights. The din is roucous. Windows from floor to ceiling. On the southwest side of the pool, the windows look out to a wooded area beyond the playground. Yesterday, the sun was brilliant, the sky blue. I rested my arms at the edge and turned my face to the sun coming through the southwestern window. My view all trees and low golden light.  The usual piped-in music was off. The pool water lapping through the deck drain. I could feel the sun warming my skin. 

I was present. I was full. Happy. I marked that moment. Come back to this. Back to this breath, this calm in the wild, this sense of equanimity, this peace. 

We rush to remember all the monumental moments, the births, matriculations, firsts of everything (tooth in, tooth out, potty, crawl, walk, run, swing, dance, sing, knee scrape, birthday after birthday - marking each new year),  holidays, graduations, anniversaries, new births. We like remembering the big stuff. It feels big. Take a picture. 

I want to remember the small stuff. The little finer moments. The unhurried. The uncaptured. To document the undocumented the mundane the ordinary the extraordinary. 

I finally figured it out after all these years. I am special and I am just like everybody else. I am paradox. I am human in the most beautiful denotation of the word, meaning that I am full of feeling, thought, insight, foibles, comedy, desire, life. I am fully alive. I want to remember the moments when I feel alive. 

I will write to this. 

Today I woke to hear my heart beating. The thum-and-drum. Breathe in. Breathe out. I slowly filled up with breath and exhaled. Listening to my heart. Fill up. Let go. Beat. In. Out. Beat. 

Meditation is deep listening. Mediation is not the absence of anything or the addition of anything. Meditation is just listening deeply, acute listening, listening and nothing else. Enraptured listening. What will happen next? I can't stop. I must know. What is happening now? It's a metaphysical cliffhanger. Who knew mediation could be so stimulating?

Beauty in every day, beating me awake. 


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