Can you come out to play?
Remember those days? Can we still play? Sure, life can still be serious. As adults we do have very real responsibilities. But we can still play!
In fact—I would argue—that play is essential. It is how we loosen up, think outside a seemingly small variety of “options.” It brings us to that place of wonder and newness and potential.
What would you do, right now, if you could have fun, for 5 minutes? What if you took yourself out for an evening date, what would you plan? And if you could create the life you want, what would it be? More importantly, what would it feel like?
Every day, every moment, we are creating. We create our life, from our thoughts, our beliefs of the possible. Or, I should say, we create our experience of our life. I can not (I don’t think!) make the rain fall right now, but I CAN decide what I do with it when it does.
A world of both receptivity AND action, feeling AND thought—we come present in this moment, we feel how we feel, we listen and receive, AND we create, we interact with the moment and make choices.
While we are witnessing and being, let’s also create. The only question we need to answer is “Can you come out to play?” What happens next is anyone’s guess!
Sitting in the Mess
In yoga, we shift our weight to one leg, feel the wobble, find the center. First is our drsti (pronounced drishti)—a fun word to say—our point of focus. We find the singular point. It is not the wobbly leg or the other out-of-sight air-born parts. It is a point ahead that we can see, just slightly ahead.
Our drsti locked in, we return to our breath. Have the wobbles stopped? Likely not, messy. We breath anyway, long slow in, long slow out, long slow in, we continue. It is a place of trust. A focus and breath. Today maybe I lose my balance and tumble, tomorrow perhaps I feel more solid. Doesn’t matter, there is no “why”. Focus and breath. Tumble and return. Shake and breathe.
This is what it means to come to the mat, we do it anyway, with regularity. We can come also to the page or the journal or the canvas. I roll out my mat in the morning. I sit at the table and open my notebook or journal to the first blank I see. I wet my brush and face my canvas. I just come. That is how my drsti begins. I breath. I trust the process. When I am done, I go about my day.
Find those moments. Find your drsti and breathe. That’s it. Let yourself shake. Sit in the mess.