A Binding


For finer photos, take a look on line at what photographers with big lenses and tripods (or maybe even telescopic cameras) have done. If I’d gone for a walk, I could have taken a picture of a big red moon over the dome. I’m just imagining that I did that (imagination sometimes being as good as the “real thing”), as I get ready to get back into bed under a cat for another hour and half of sleep before getting up to practice.
Yesterday morning, when I came out of savasana following my regular a.m. practice, one of my cats was happily stretched the length of my side with his chin resting on my upper arm. He had not been there when I first moved into savasana. I looked at the clock and realized that I had been in savasana for 45 minutes, which was ample time for the cat to get comfortable. It would be, perhaps, more accurate to say I had been in savasana for several minutes (exact number of minutes unknown) and many more minutes blissfully asleep.
I very rarely fall asleep in savasana. Falling asleep in savasana regularly is a pretty good indicator of sleep deprivation, which is something I make an effort to avoid for my overall health and happiness.
On Saturday night I had stayed out fairly late, enjoying a meal, followed by dessert and book-browsing with a friend. When I got home at around 11:30 I felt a strong need to write in my journal about my initial reaction to the tragic shooting in Arizona. The cats were excited that I was awake at that hour, so I also spent some extra time petting them. This meant I was awake about two hours later than is usual for me.
The morning wake up sound (currently a recording of the Sri Rudrum) went off at its usual 5:57 a.m. Oof. The temptation was high just to turn off the sound and go back to sleep.
I know from long experience that the next several days will be better if I get up and do my regular hour to an hour and a half morning practice, which consists of a little asana, some pranayama, meditation and meditation-related practices, and savasana, and then trust that I will find an opportunity for a quick nap later in the day. My practice is my center, my delight, my exploration, my grounding; at this point, I come close to saying it is an essential part of who I am. When I have a busy day scheduled–as I did yesterday–it is still almost unthinkable to miss the practice, though on rare occasions out of necessity I will shorten it to just 30 minutes of meditation.
It turned out that the end of my practice turned into the nap I needed. The practice followed by the blissfully long rest was, though, far more what I needed than staying in bed for longer and wondering when and whether I could fit in a practice later.
For the past few years, my friend X has hosted a Day of the Dead celebration. This year, it had not been in his plans. Enough of asked, though, that he is hosting a small dinner. The Halloween of candy and costumes has not had a big draw for me; it was never made much of in my childhood. Taking the time, though, to sense the thinning between the worlds and to take time to honor my ancestors is of great meaning. Having been privileged to be invited into the festivities of the Day of the Dead has enhanced my consciousness of this time of year.
Today, when I practiced, I first reflected on those friends and family who have left their physical bodies in the past year–some quite significant to me. Thinking of those friends and family led me to think of others long gone in body, but not in spirit, and others who are still living, but with whom the connection remains only in memory. To all, I offered honor and recognition of their part in my being. Of all, like the taste of the sugared skulls that are part of the Day of the Dead, I am consciously thinking some, among whatever memories may arise unbidden, of what was sweet.