I have some tears this morning. When I talk to Jane, I share with her what I wanted to put on the blog yesterday but just couldn't bring myself to do. Last year, yesterday was the day I started chemo, the Monday before Thanksgiving. It is hard not to feel the shock of that. Parabola Magazine came yesterday and the theme is "Home." I cooked all day yesterday, made chile, pesto, pumpkin bread and read about Home, the home within, even as I have felt my own home expand. I realize now perhaps I should be putting my check-ins for my Sensory Awareness work here. I posted this yesterday on our Sensory Awareness Yahoo group.
I am enjoying the check-ins. This has moved from my “to do” list to something I want and need.
I re-organized the room I use to sense. It is inticing now, inviting, not just a place where things that have no other place get stacked. I want to enter the room. I want to enter myself.
I woke yesterday loving the portability of sensing. I can do it anywhere, anytime. I also see that it is important to have a time and to honor that. It is a spiritual practice.
What I am noticing is that my home has expanded. I am seeing differently, and, in that, there is more space. I have a new sense of feng shui and have gotten rid of things that no longer serve me. I notice placement and color. I awaken the dead spaces in my home as well as myself. I am tapping my home awake, and my house is expanded.
My cells and the air within, and the air that surrounds, awake. Right now, my feet are on the floor, and I feel their dimension and vibration. My spine moves. My shoulders curve in anticipation and they are not stuck. I went outside this morning and was enraptured with the fog. I stand and look at the sky. I am happy to be back with sensing, renewal, and the places I touched in this last year. I let myself feel there is nothing to do, but be, and in that, I am in ease with what I do and that is more than before.
I move easily like an animal, the living organism I am, and my heart is gently stroked with the wonder of it all. With each breath, I am struck like a chime.
I re-read my words and must say that this is not every moment, but it is the moments I remember and want to focus on, so as to cultivate them more, so that is what I report. When I wake in the morning, I do feel a weight of pressure around what I "need" to do, but I stay with it and sense, and move and expand around it, and, then, somewhere, it is gone, and I am like a featherbed that has been fluffed.
Sensing as much as is possible, for me, right now, Cathy