I have a new found appreciation for the sunrise. It's not something I'm too familiar with, but it has become my best friend throughout the last three weeks. There is something truly beautiful about being on the same cycle as the sun. Going to bed early, waking up early. This summer I've especially come to love drives down to San Diego as the sun is setting, and drives back up to northern orange county for yoga in the morning as it rises. I don't know if it's the fact that I'm about to embark on a day filled with something I love, the ocean off to the left of me, the wide empty road, or the fact that I just visited someone I love, but there is something just magical about it.
In yoga today, our class of 28 teacher trainers taught the entire two hour asana practice. I have never in my life seen so many magnificent personalities come together to share their love for something in such an amazing way. I taught happy baby (my favorite pose!) and savasana and read a quote at the end of class. Being able to give the other students the kind of calm our world so desperately needs was such a liberating experience. In the afternoon we learned about prenatal yoga and spent the whole two hours with a blanket rolled up and strapped to our bellys like a baby. Then we did a practice as "moms". I don't think the smile left my face once during the practice. (The picture is of my friend, Marlene, and I with our baby bellies during prenatal today.)
In other news, I am no longer homeless. I have a place to live in the fall. And am on my way to making a very strict budget...which I have never done before!
The last three years I feel like my life has gone through 1000 transitions. Nate leaves this weekend, yoga ends next week, and before I know it the summer will be gone and I'll be a junior, which is unbelievable.
Here's the quote I read at the end of class today. I found it from none other than Yoga to the People:
The Invitation
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your hearts longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain!
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.
I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even if its not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from The presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the sliver of the full moon, "Yes!"
It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.
It doesn't interest me who you are and how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
Oriah Mountain Dreamer, Indian Elder May 1994
