We woke early and went outside to sit with the time of day when our neighboring owl gives his or her last hoots, and the little birds, then, bigger ones come to wake.

It’s peaceful here this morning, fog softly in, a gentle gray.  

Yesterday I was shocked to realize how close the virus is.  Because we stay sheltered-in-place, I forget, but it’s definitely still here. Warnings keep coming as numbers increase.

Yesterday morning, I was on a Sensory Awareness Zoom call.  We work with gravity in sensing, with feeling her support.  I was with the spaciousness within as I held a rock and played with its density and weight. The rock I held is rigid, without my amazing ability and agility to move and adapt, be fluid.

I dissolved into the words of the 15th-century mystic poet and saint Kabir:

Something inside me has reached to the place

Where the world is breathing.  

Listening to the discussion on the call, these words came to me:

Are the past and future a gravitational hold and letting go?

In the moment, I’m with the breath, drawing me forward, and letting me go.