I really bad wanted to finish the proof edits on the 'first me book ever', the felix book, the boy who fell. i had the edits in hand and today was the day i had set aside to bring a seven year endeavor to a close. No!
It was not to be. I wanted to write, but...
Full stop: i came to a halt inches from entry into the world of words and cider, the land of music that makes me cry, tunes to grieve by as i moved words and reworked sacred phrases in the mythology of my soul.
But No! Not today. Other ghosts needed attention, and new gardens requested consideration. My plans, this day, did not merit. Alas. Inhale, sigh...
I sat at the kitchen table and the rest of the clan was occupied scores of feet from my locale, about as much space as i ever get in those four walls. Smile.
I sat and stared out at the back yard, watched it grow from gray-green to green-gray and then to the first light-green of spring. I decided not to follow any thoughts that came, vowed not to seek another plan (now that writing was out). I decided to accept, do nothing and give up. I put my head in my arms on the hard softwood of the well-lived kitchen table, and i surrendered unconditionally.
Twenty four minutes in i switched my head from right-looking to left, re-checked my feet to reassure my self that they were as grounded as possible, adjusted my lower back a wee bit so i wouldn't ache when this was over, and i let go even more. I watched myself do nothing. I watched, and it was like standing still on a snowy day in the countryside where sound is not.
Three quarters of an hour plus 3 minutes and i returned to this world from the Beautiful Infinity, refreshed. Savasana. My life is my practice, and at times i remember head on the table pose and surrender, to full rest, and from there awaken again, reborn. How cool is that?