and I rise

by kye on March 24, 2010

This morning it’s raining.  It’s a gentle day: the rain is gentle, as is the slight cool of the air.

A walk in the rain might have been nice, but I was drawn towards sitting meditation instead.  I’ve been moving at a steady clip all week. My body in its wisdom knew that a deliberate pause for a few minutes now, would give my movement a more generous space.

So I sit.

And I notice.

First I notice that I am nearly in here with my experience, but not quite.  I just notice it, I don’t force anything… I let it be just as it was before, except noticed.

Then I notice that my shoulders are pulled forward a bit.  As soon as I notice, they want to move up, and back, and drop.  The space in my chest becomes more generous.

And I sit.  And notice.

Ah, what’s this going on on my left side?  It’s pulled down more on that side. What would it like there?  …to relax up, rib by rib. and then open below the ribs.  I feel like an accordian pulling open on the left.  Now things feel more even and upright.

But not quite!  I’m slanted back just a tiny bit from straight-up-and-down.  It’s my chest that’s back behind my waist.  As I watch, it comes forward just a tiiiiiny bit.  Mmmm, that feels solid and good.  My breathing slows now that there’s more room for it.  I slow, as my breathing slows.

I sit a few minutes more, savoring my alignment, and my breath, and my pace.

And at last I rise, bringing this new pace into the movement of the day.

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  • acordaamor

    Hi Kye — good to see you again. What came up when I read this was that sometimes it's difficult enough to notice where I feel out of alignment as I'm getting out of bed in the morning — much less when I'm walking around outside with tons of noise and stimulus. This noticing seems like great practice.

  • Sandy_Powers

    Hi Kye! I'm finally able to enjoy reading your blog to “get to know you” before our photo shoot :) The first one reminds me of how little I “notice”. How much more often I race around at a frantic pace noticing little more than all the things I still need to do — and then wonder when I try to fall asleep at night everything's still racing around all tight. Now, I want to read more :)

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