We get on up onto the back of a new day with the expectation energy of continuity. This new day will be a continuation of yesterday and the previous days. It is not difficult to understand how this deadening of the specificity occurs.

I step out of the same bed, on the same side, with the same leg and stand exactly as I have done countless days before. But it is a lie the numbed down mind tells me.

There is a taste, a smell, a texture, an over riding theme to each day to each passing hour that distinguishes it from all others. The weather alone is the most predominant marker. As the sky opens it may bring in sun or fist clamp down again on grayness. The wind may tear limbs off of the tree or refuse to give relief to over ranging heat.

But as we move in closer there are so many variables that it is like looking minutely at a woven piece of fabric. The day is an interaction. I am in a mood, or in a frame of mind. Associations with neighbours, friends, family may shift me.
Viewing in an unmindful manner some political news that distresses me may change my internal barometer in a shattering second.

And yet we are asked, “How is your day?” Others inquire, “How is your day going?”

You will order levitra devensec.com definitely see the results after few months. Herbal treatments include supplements cialis levitra generika which naturally stimulate the body. The act of writing down your goals creates cialis soft tabs a stronger commitment and thus motivates action. This order viagra overnight is done to prevent the provisions of the drug by the laws that now exist. I learned a great deal watching You Tube videos from practiced meditators about allowing for negative space. It is a created geography of simply not knowing, not judging, not expecting, not naming. When we hold a negative space within it is very positive. It means we can simply experience moment to moment without having to catch it with a butterfly net, stick a pin through it, put it on a board and label it.

“How was yesterday?,” I might ask myself.

It was a flowing intersection of various energies, expectations, weather systems and it was mostly sunny.

Today held moments of rain. And finally, that is all we get. We get moments. An event shows up like the neighbours’ cat at my back door rubs on the threshold and then disappears again.

This now not judged holds a peaceful sanctuary. It is free of expectation which means it is free of disappointment. I do not own it. It does not own me.

I remember that the birds sang and I heard the rain’s waterfall through the trees. I could not have been better, done more, been more perfect or been more flawed. I just lived what ever this day was.

And I don’t need to find out its Latin name.

I open my eyes and my first reaching out of the night numbness is to assess the day. I hear birds already at their posts in the trees calling out in a language I am not comprehending. Their tone suggests living as usual. Before a big storm, the neighbourhood crows are insistent, nagging, harsh. But today there was no need for alarm.

The cool breeze coming in my window lifts the blackout curtain and touches the parts of my body that are unwrapped from the blanket. I know that I have some stage unknown to myself wherein I shift from my self comforting fetal position on to my back when I know I am about to release the day. I will move to my left side my knees drawn up, two clasped hands touching my mouth. It is probably some memory of self comfort thumb sucking from infancy.

The morning inevitably finds me flat on my back, spread out and floating on whatever segment of dream I still feel solidly. And then it is swept away with the rest of the night’s visions leaving me only with the tonality, the theme music of the narrative journey.

The day is cool, sunny, the birds are content and busy with their mating and nesting.

Next, I run my mind gently over the house… tracing the shape of it. I feel out to the walls that enclose me… It is almost a ritual reconstruction of the domicile sanctuary daily. The ritual of making my home actual.

I ask, “Who is here?” When 160 people have passed through the house nightly in four months, it takes some effort to re-inhabit the bedrooms downstairs.

Lavender along the walk way

The wonder of my life in the last five months is the very gentleness of it. My transition to waking is soft. As I stand on the floor, I have a sense of purpose. I have guests to make coffee for, to chat with and if they are gone I have rooms to prepare. The garden is flourishing under the habit of care I have established.

Many people lately have told me I have never looked better and it surprises me. I am so uninterested in how I appear to others, it is almost shocking when somebody makes a comment. It feels like they are noticing a coat I am wearing that I don’t remember putting on.

After almost ten years of retreat, mourning, study, plant medicine, writing, sitting with teachers I feel that I am ready to live. The sense that something was wrong with me that has haunted me most of my life is gone. The sense of “me” is gone. I am only an energy of exploration. I am only a “bundle of habits” as my teachers have explained to me. Most of the day there is just flow, work, thought, learning.

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            One of the things that commends travel, art, nature, work, and certain

             drugs to us is the way these experiences, at their best, block every

             mental path forward and back, immersing us in the flow of a present

             that is literally wonderful- wonder being the by-product of precisely the 

             kind of unencumbered first sight, or virginal noticing, to which the adult

             brain has closed itself.

After decades of struggling in the spider web and hearing a voice off screen yelling to just lay still, I get it. There is a way to escape and it is not through work, worry, wasting attention. I feel like one of those birds in the tree outside my window teetering on the edge of the nest.

peace

It is time to fly and let the air take me. But first I have a garden to weed. I can finally say, “I wake up happy.”