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.
|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.