In savasana, you rest laying flat, eyes closed, face to the sky. Palms up, feet apart, you still the body and invite the mind to follow along.
No more doing. Only being.
Here i am, stealing a moment. Lawn feeling lumpy under my back. Bugs landing on my arms.
And a voice.
hi, mama
my eyes pop open.
hi, claire.
we're playing shell dorothy shell and it's the tornado day episode
that's nice.
She goes back to their game. My eyes are still open.
I can see a spider web catching nothing but the sun, high, high above my head. It's woven between the needles near the top of the pine tree I'm positioned under. A bee buzzes the next strata down, tiny from here but recognizable. And a sparrow-sized bird flits in and out of the branches of a neighboring oak. The sky is empty of clouds.
And for about 30 seconds, my mind is, too. Empty. Aware. A state i sometimes fight too hard to achieve, warring against my restless mind in the dim, quiet, end-of-day space i sometimes carve out for myself.
hey mama? i just made friends with a spider. a tiny one.
I sit up.
really, eliza? good for you. where did you find her?
interrupted, always.
but right now, filled with a warm, white light.
