It was hard to get out of bed this morning. Dark and cold outside. I wanted to get up before everyone else, so that I can have a moment for myself to meditate, but it didn’t happen. So I meditated with the kids staring at me. They tried to be quiet, but most of the time they forgot about the quiet contract that they signed when they decided to sit on the couch in the living room while I meditated. Giggle monsters. Still. I meditated.
We did family yoga which consisted mostly of our almost three year old climbing on me and pulling on my hair, using it as his climbing ropes. Who does yoga with loose long hair anyways? My body was not my own. But my core got quite a workout.
Went on a couple of walks with the dog – one with kids, one solo. Such gorgeous skies. I’ve always loved LA Wintery days, after it rains and the air smells fresh, and dark, thick clouds paint layers of stories about change and reformation over a clean, bright blue canvas.
We are all changing. The forms of last week have evaporated. How we’ve known our lives to be is gone. For most of us, things will probably never be the same. One can argue that nothing is ever the same as it was. And that’s true. But while we always live under the secret, unseen hand of the unknown, we now feel the skin on its palm. Are we gonna be crushed? Saved? Shown a new way? Most likely we are going to be drastically reshaped by it.
It sounds like I’m talking about some divine revelation. I don’t mean to.
Humanity has an opportunity to tailor the cloak of its existence anew. Will we recreate who we are in ways that are more sustainable now? Or will our resistance to the urgency of change, and our desperation for a sense of stability put the nail in our coffin? Perhaps it’ll be what it always is, but in a completely different way – something in between – a death and a rebirth tangled up in one another.