The day is bright with early autumn light, windows are open and the air is fresh. Each cell drinks in the fullness of what it is to be awake.
I’ve been working with Alexander Technique. I pause to notice my habit and focus on thinking up, and when I rise I think forward and up. When I’m ready to come down to a chair, I allow my knees and hips to bend. There is ease. I rise and fall as easily as the tides.
Years ago, I took a wilderness survival course with Peter Wolf, his real name. The focus besides gathering wood and making fires was open focus. We walked through the forest alone, noticing movement, something changing, or out of place.
Blindfolded, we walked barefoot, holding onto a rope so as not to get lost, and received what we heard and felt. How quiet were our feet on the earth, how receptive?
Yes, we predators look straight ahead, but we are also prey, so our peripheral vision sweeps and culls from the sides. We’re here because we’ve survived within an ever-changing environment. We live in relationship and cultivating this knowing enriches our souls.
This morning I note that the weight of my brother’s passing, the grief, is held in wider hands. The environment offers support, the birds, the trees, and now, a wisp of fog drops down on the ridge like a hand assuring that yes, my environment is wide in support, is here.
A song from childhood comes to mind. “He’s got the whole world in his hands.” Today, we might say, in honor of and with respect to Mother Earth, “She’s got the whole world in her hands.”
Now I listen to Mahalia Jackson. She sings, “You’ve got the whole wide world in your hands.”