I had kind of a shit morning today. I went to bed in a grump and hoped to wake up without it. I woke up ok, and set my intention to have a good day. It started well enough; I got out of the house first thing, met with an Americano and oat muffin at Marsee baking. I journaled, I prayed, I asked for Words. For something from God to pull me out of the muck I felt stuck in, the muck I couldn’t even name.
I came home and worked on some projects, finished a baby gift then started experimenting with the leather needle, heavy duty thread, and neoprene that is (hopefully) going to turn into a laptop case. After several failed attempts with my Kenmore, I got my user manual out and proceeded to clean and oil the entire thing, thinking maybe that was the problem. (I have never cleaned my machine before—and I’ve had it since I lived in Bozeman, so at least 7 years. It was almost as if my feed dogs were actually shedding, there was so much lint in them). That didn’t work, so I moved onto the Singer, hoping Betty could send some good vibes down to help. After several attempts there (and I promised her, out loud, that I wouldn’t cuss. Sorry, Betty), I finally shut down the operation and gave up.
There are things I know will lead to a bad day: too much time by myself, too much sewing, too much computer; also too little exercise, fresh air, or sun. Sun I can’t control. Exercise I can. The others had already pushed it on. So I went to yoga.
Now when yoga first came around in my life, I was cautioned to be wary of it, it being a spiritual practice of sorts. I agree, there have been times I’ve been a little uncomfortable with some practices, but overall I find it such a rewarding practice. Some days it is just a work out; some days it is a stress reliever. Today it was a prayer. Bill always starts his class with a harpsichord/accordion type instrument, with which we resound a collective “om”. The first time he did this, I was wierded out. Then he explained: it’s a collective sound, a unison of the different voices that have come together for one practice, regardless of what each individual came for or came with. In that small room, on the same cork floor, we are all in it together. Together. At the end of the practice, we united for three more oms. As I sat there cross-legged, hands on my knees, I raised my palms to the ceiling as if to receive a benediction. And I did. I heard “Peace. Be at peace with yourself.” God showed up. The sun came out. The day moves on.