This morning is one for the record books-- otherwise known as my gratitude journal.
Seriously, gorgeous morning, full-on sun, bird song, still some color in the trees, a few wayward roses holding fast to their blooms, an early walk through the hood with the pups and I got my ass to 7am yoga.
boo to the YAH.
Speaking of seriously, the fact is if someone did nothing but read these posts they would think I was a rather serious person and nothing could be further from the truth. Although I do feel things deeply, I am rarely if ever serious. Goofy, silly and sometimes decidedly uncoordinated seems a far better description of my essential self.
I seek to have as much ease and light in my day as possible, so despite my ramblings here-- most of my waking hours are spent with my head in the clouds. Big walkabouts with the dogs followed by deep relaxation and almond butter on wasa crackers pretty much sums up a typical morning.
I chose the title of this post in reference to the fact that sobbing falls into the category of showering, washing my hair, eating broccoli, buying shoes or shopping in general -- which means rarely. I have such admiration for people who cry and can cry deeply, sort of like when people say to me, "I wish I was a morning person."
(Which, on a total aside, makes no sense to me-- own your wild, night-owl self!!)
We all just move through the world as we do and as much as I might wish to sob with the best of them-- it's really not how I roll. In fact, it is such a rare event it's sort of how some people know how many times in their life they have thrown up. I know the times in my life I have lost it and sobbed til I needed a brown paper bag in my face to keep from hyperventilating-- but on that particular instance I am thinking of, I was also laughing so hard right in the midst of the storm because I could see how absurd the situation was.
Not that feelings are absurd, just that there's a part of me that is completely detached and watching emotions come and go.
I know, weird.
All of which to say-- I am here this morning in one of my profoundly empty headed moments where all I am aware of is Daisy's nose pressing on my thigh to put the laptop away already, the light coming through the window, and the pulse of gratitude in my heart that this moment feels like this.
Hey, now that I'm signing off-- I just realized I have something to share tomorrow-- or sometime this week--- my donkey story.
Yes. The perfect contrast to whatever I just rambled on about above.
Perhaps some sobbing will be in order for my beloved donkey story, because the best part of a good hard cry is the relief and spacious expanse that fills your body after, don't you think?
Ahhhhh. You would think I was high for how incoherent this is and you know what? Me no caro.