I awoke at 5 to prepare for early bird yoga. There was a new student arriving, who is, by her definition, not a morning person. Knowing that it was snowing when I went to bed, I prepared to shovel a path out to the school building. Beauty greeted me before I even got to the window. My husband, understanding my commitment to myself, my student and my dreams, got up and began shoveling with me. "It's nice and light." I called out to him. "And it's sparkly...look!" He smirked and kept shoveling. When we met up again at the top of the driveway, he asked "Is it still nice and light, and sparkly?" He knew the answer without my speaking it, the benefit of years of knowing each others spirits. It was still beautiful, still sparkly, and still light. It was here, whether we asked for it or not, whether or not we had already celebrated spring's debut.
We shoveled the driveway, the walkways, and a path for our neighbor, and I went back to the school, determined to partake in my daily yoga practice, even if no students arrived. I centered myself and had 20 minutes of sacred practice, when I heard a truck pull into the driveway. My student had arrived to leave me a note, (figuring she'd missed out as it was now 6:30), telling me she was sorry to have missed class. She wanted me to know that she felt a comittment to coming, to changing her routine, to caring for herself. She looked surprised to see me there, more surprised when I took out an extra mat and welcomed her with a hug. We had a half hour before either of us had another responsibility. Precious time. We shared a beautiful practice. More importantly, we shared the understanding that we have choices. We can choose to embrace what is happening around us if it's inevitable. (snow!) We can choose to honor our comittments to ourselves first, making us more accessible to those who depend on us. We can relax into our days, knowing that under a blanket of unexpected snow lie daffodils in bud, tulips, crocus, and even some stalwart pansies.
As I write this now, the sun is shining, reflecting off of the snow. Yes, it's still sparkling. Birds are singing, and the children in our care are mystified as though it's the first snow of the season. Precious time. I am grateful.
We shoveled the driveway, the walkways, and a path for our neighbor, and I went back to the school, determined to partake in my daily yoga practice, even if no students arrived. I centered myself and had 20 minutes of sacred practice, when I heard a truck pull into the driveway. My student had arrived to leave me a note, (figuring she'd missed out as it was now 6:30), telling me she was sorry to have missed class. She wanted me to know that she felt a comittment to coming, to changing her routine, to caring for herself. She looked surprised to see me there, more surprised when I took out an extra mat and welcomed her with a hug. We had a half hour before either of us had another responsibility. Precious time. We shared a beautiful practice. More importantly, we shared the understanding that we have choices. We can choose to embrace what is happening around us if it's inevitable. (snow!) We can choose to honor our comittments to ourselves first, making us more accessible to those who depend on us. We can relax into our days, knowing that under a blanket of unexpected snow lie daffodils in bud, tulips, crocus, and even some stalwart pansies.
As I write this now, the sun is shining, reflecting off of the snow. Yes, it's still sparkling. Birds are singing, and the children in our care are mystified as though it's the first snow of the season. Precious time. I am grateful.
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