What does it take to fulfill on our visions for the future?
Sometimes transformation takes just a moment. I see the impact of my ways & shed my skin, right there. And sometimes it requires a path of many of these moments, transforming so many little things, so many ways, one bit at a time. And sometimes that path is a 9-hour drive with 2 rival toddlers & one in the threshold between childhood & adolescence. A tender-hearted & fierce executive / work-at-home dad. And a mama who is full. Full. So very full of the things that fill our mama-chests, the weight of both the laundry scoop & the hamper, the lull-shake of my sewing machine, the lists upon lists, the sounds of every possible need of the extended family, the home, the community, the planet expressed in every possible way. Never mind the vision plans & illustrations for nicely waiting folks. Never mind the creative urges, the seedlings thirsty for water. The baby goats, the chickens that I haven't yet met. I am in a 6 personal year. It's all about family.
And once we reach our destination, once we've sat with our healers & been cleared of the past, been cleared nutritionally, chemically, emotionally, psycho-genetically (our dna) & environmentally in our organs & our nervous systems & finally, every one of us, to be able to look at each-other-one-of-us & feel absolutely nothing but love, big change can happen. The kind that always wants to happen, but can't when we are happy & ready but for some reason there are little triggers with wierd emotions like "impending doom," "paralyzed will," "frightfully overjoyed."
You know what I mean - it's what happens when you say, "this year, I'm doing all of it!" and then you are stopped. Or scared. Or unsure of your next move. Or it's their fault. Or you can't work together or agree on how to have a conversation. Or there's thoughts like, "I can't..." "If only," "I'm trying..." All of that. It sits in our organs & makes us eat things like sugar, fat & bread. It makes us point fingers & make demands instead of requests.
So. Now. In the sacred, empty space that comes after a full-out family space clearing, there is nothing to do but sleep. Our nest of night owls is no longer up late, I am no longer waking at 2am every morning, trying to fit myself in. Instead of crashing at 6am, flustering up at 7:30 to an exhausted household looking for scrambled eggs, it's been this, all week::
5am, up. Yoga. Hit the mat. Goodbye restful, rejuvinating am yoga. It's power yoga. Strength. Stamina. Flexibility. This morning I went for strength & it kicked my butt. It was hard. Yoga starts at our edge.
7am, D's up, doing his practice. It's quiet, the sun comes up, & our sons come in. They murmur while finish up whatever I'm up to.
8am, A warm grain cereal + hemp milk. Green smoothies, all around.
And at the park, no more sitting, thinking, or helping them to play. They play, I keep a watchful eye. They play. I run. And run. And walk. Then run.
We're not going anywhere. We're just moving. It feels good. Flow feels good. It's the morning mat-teacher, pretending to be every other part of the day. A practice in practice.