Sunday, September 20, 2009

The Day that Was...

I shouldn't have had that glass of wine...I blame the enactment of that decision for still being awake at this hour, knowing I have the alarm set for 4:00 AM to begin my practice and then my day.

Today has been

One of those that have the goods and the bads with no real definitive state when it's over because you are left with an undefinable feel about the general status of the day.

Ouch--I really live in the Facebook era don't I?

As if any day worth its minutes could be fiddled down to a status, a one-liner report, an attention-grabbing headliner.

If this day were a status it would read:

The day that was...

And the under story, the follow-through, the if-you-care-to-know-more would follow as:

...a new beginning for a friendship interrupted by the frailty and fallibility of the human condition.

...a heartache for a mother longing to bridge the gap between herself and her daughter, feeling her way blindly and misstepping more than right stepping deeper into a divide that swallows her courage to just drop to her knees, hands to her heart.

...a joyous reunion between mother and son, his smile one of sincerity and love, that begs for my presence and lightens my heart.

...a lesson in humility.

...a lesson in letting go in order to let in.

...a lesson in trusting myself.

...nothing out of the ordinary.

...probably not valued in the way it deserved.


There is SO much follow-up for the above but I think they speak nicely on their own behalf, in their own puzzling brevity--why bother?

The one I will speak to is the one that plays loudest in my mind--my daughter.

I am so fearful of losing her, emotionally, and this fear is intense--this fear sits on my chest and labors my breath, plaguing my mind and knotting my thoughts.

More than the physical practice of asana or the dumbfounding practice of meditation, this child--excuse me, this young woman, is going to burn away my ego, leaving me with nothing as a front. Nothing.

I will be left to stand before her and the world as only a pulsing, bleeding heart, raw and exposed, open to all the pain in the world, vulnerable as only a mother can be with her child.

This is where I usually blame myself for what I did and didn't do along the way. The good thing is, I don't get too far into blame because I know at this point in my life how counterproductive it is...a useless enterprise really as my thoughts and energy should be going to her and our relationship and how I make myself available to her, how I present myself to her and how much room I allow for her to be who she is--am I creating space for her becoming?

She can have my ego...if I can just get inside her heart.

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