I feel blissed out. Maybe it’s a combination of fresh air
and the stinging of my cheeks after exposure to the suddenly low temperatures.
Maybe it's the feel of a night hike, trusting the quiet and the darkness. Maybe it’s the moon shining so brightly that I needn’t a headlamp as I walked
through the glowing surface of the snow up the quarter-mile road to my house
that looks as gingerbread as ever with the dusting of snow.
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| Maybe it's knowing I'm the first, here, now. And there's evidence. |
The feeling of euphoria might be from not fighting it, not
fighting any of it. I was a few minutes late to my yoga class this evening and
was locked out; “oh well, I reasoned, must not be meant to happen.” I felt it
genuinely, too. It wasn’t a consolation or practice in self-soothing; it was a recognition that tonight may not have been the night for me to show up
for this class.
The slight surrender I’ve experienced this evening wasn’t
with me all day. I struggled with wakefulness and my snooze button, but calm set
in around noon when I was the only person in my Groove class. So I danced alone
for that hour. I enjoyed playing in the space, trying new things with my body,
and seeing just how the music wanted me to move.
There’s a hollow calm in me tonight, and I like it. Maybe
this is peace.
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