I've always liked the idea of the journalling the most significant event of the day. To sit down at the end of the day and record that thing that stands out as the most important in a day lived. I think that if one were to do that, she would go to sleep at the end of the day with everything in perspective. I imagine that might be the best gift one could give to sleep.
No, I'm not doing that kind of journalling right now. Not faithfully, at least. But that photo was taken on a Tuesday; and as I recall, the most significant moment of that day was looking out my window and reflecting on the gradation of colour in that sky.
There's been a conversation over at Selma's about her need to, and her method of, surrendering to the divine. It got me thinking about times when I decided I needed to surrender over to what I call the universe. I associate the experience with "the universe," as I said to her, because I can experience it most significantly by way of subtle movement, a tipping of the flow somehow; its rhythms nudging me along in an uncharted course.
Funny thing is, like Selma, I've been enduring restless nights of crazy dreaming. Rodents have intruded into my sleep world; disfigured, injured ones. I'm waking up exhausted and jumpy and with a sense of gloom and foreboding that I can't seem to shake these recent weeks.
So I'm thinking about that conversation and my recent state during yoga today; and when I'm asked to focus on an intention for today's practice, it seems right to let go of the nighttime (and daytime) intruders on my peace. I decide to accept and work with the rhythms of the universe – in that studio and beyond; to ride the waves in a direction that is, perhaps, different that that I'd envisioned as "right."
As it turns out, it's the best yoga experience I've had in a long time. I focus. My body breathes into itself, and holds still and strong in the poses. I balance. Balance is something I've not found in that studio all summer.
I'm thinking about all that when that cloud passes across my window this evening. I watch it drift ever slowly east, inviting me to float along with it. If I dare.
I don't know how I will sleep tonight, but things are looking up. Or EVEN anyway. Kind of like the world is rolling along, and I might as well jump on and just sit back and breathe.
It's a lovely evening, and I take a bike ride along the lakeside path to the west. On my way back I stop on the Humber River Bridge because the sky is asking for a fresh portrait. I oblige it with three.
… between the looming thunderstorm, the pink clouds and the cerulean sky.
Can't call a winner, but it was sure nice being out there. Summer, I'm so glad you're here.