I had a beautiful start to my day today. Some moments of awareness as I enjoyed another Daily Practice, which as you can see evolves every day. And it's evolved from what I thought it was going to be in the first place. Before that first practice, I imagined taking you all on a physical Yogic journey every morning to wake up all aspects of our beings. But movement isn't necessarily what I want to be doing to start my day, every day. The whole point is to carve out some time to remind myself that I am connected to that divine spark. Sometimes movement is great for this, sometimes it isn't. Sometimes I'd prefer to do some breathing exercises. Sometimes I like to focus on my body and really connect with this earthly existence. Other times I like to sit and drink my coffee and simply ponder the magnificence of life and all its ups and downs. Some days, like today, I commit myself to a communion with Mother Nature and the physical experience of those ups and downs as I make my way into the hills to catch a sunrise.
Winter sunrises are great because you don't have to be up at a ridiculously early time. Winter sunrises are a challenge however due to the inevitable cold experienced, particularly on mornings clear enough to see the sun! And as I was checking out the weather last night, skies looked clear enough and the temperature, temperate. As good a morning as any to rise up early and greet the dawn.
...and when the alarm went off at 6:15am, I'll be honest and admit I momentarily prayed for a cloudy sky which would give me an excuse to stay in the warm cocoon of my house on the lake, but the stars greeted me with bright eyes and twinkly tails. Skies were clear. Get to the bush. The sun will be showcasing his artwork today, promptly at 07:45.
But I was not prompt, and arrived at the foot of the 'mountain' a full 15 minutes later than I had planned, with only 15 minutes to ascend and find a spot to capture the light show. I jammed my phone and my coffee in the cargo pockets of my snow pants and started jogging down the trail and up the hill...and then my body reminded me that I haven't been running up hills in a very long time. My legs were suddenly tree trunks and I resigned to plodding up the hill as fast as my body and breath would allow. I looked worriedly at the horizon and then again at my phone. It promised me a full 10 minutes until the main event, but I wasn't sure. It was pretty bright to the east, and getting brighter. I hurried, all the while doing my best to practice acceptance in the event I didn't make it to an adequate vantage point before the sun peeked over the horizon.
I found my way to a rocky spot with a great view over the lake. My hands are cold already, it's a bit windy, and I'm rushing - my typically calm and well connected practice is anything but at this time. I'm distracted by my frigid, fumble-y fingers as I get the live video started up and I immediately see the benefit of a tripod...maybe a selfie stick...to keep a steadier shot without getting my gloved hands in the way. But a touchscreen doesn't work through the big mitts that was wearing so my right hand was exposed to the elements. Once I was settled on my rocky perch though things were a little smoother and some of the insights that had been forming on my journey up the hill made their way into words and out of my mouth once I had caught my breath. And it wasn't just the climb that was breathtaking. Watching the clouds on the horizon get steadily brighter and brighter until the sun itself breaks through, rays of light slicing into the dawn. An indescribable moment ripe with promise. Potential energy. Time to get moving.
And it was time to get moving. I was freezing. My hands were so cold they weren't cold anymore and I knew from previous experience, this wasn't a good thing. I considered just heading back down the hill to the warmth of my Jeep but I had a good 90 minutes of time to trek around, which had been my plan. So I jammed my hands back into their gloves and decided to head into the bush and see if my fingers warmed up.
And yeah, they warmed up...but anyone who had had mild frostbite experience knows the feeling of extremities thawing out. To me, it feels like my fingertips are being crushed in a vice and about to explode meaty bits of digits all over the inside of my gloves. It was painful. And intense. Intensely painful. But I didn't turn back. I knew this was the feeling of life coursing through those frozen extremities again and whether I was warming them up with movement or whimpering in my Jeep, holding my hands against the heat vents, this intensity was here to be experienced. And what an experience it was! I was very conscious of wanting to have a temper tantrum due to the pain. I was audibly distressed, cursing out loud, vocalizing that intensity as if I could let the pressure escape from between my lips. I wanted to cry and also laugh because I knew on the other side of the burning, crushing feeling was sweet relief, and warm hands. And I reflected on how much my presence with the pain was taking away from the enjoyment of my hike. How distracting it was! I was not in the flow, not at all conscious of my divinity and connection with spirit. And this distraction brought me full circle on the WHY I PRACTICE DAILY to find that connection and that presence.
Because sometimes it's hard to stay present. Because sometimes our human experiences distract us from our underlying, spiritual essence. Because sometimes those discomforts are such that we begin to lose faith, fearing we may never be without their pain and distraction. It was hard to stay present with those fingers feeling so much pressure. But I let it out. I emoted. I cursed and vocalized and kept my arms and hands moving. And before I knew it (well not really it seemed like an eternity) it was just over. My hands were perfectly fine. Warm enough to remove my gloves to take more pictures in the cozy cover of the forest trails, winding their way through the ravines between the hills. And it was here, after the rushing up the hill was over, after the intensity of bitter cold was over, after the sun had risen and blessed us with another day...here on the trails in the spindly, intermittent sun and shade-streaked snow beneath stands of naked hardwoods, the present intensity made way for an intense presence. It was here I connected to all I had experienced that morning. It was here that my Daily Practice really began.
Thank you for joining me on my journey today. Many more on the horizon!