Five times a day they turn towards Mecca. But they're not the only ones.
I pause at intervals, too. But not to face any north, south, west, or east. I fold inward, finding a new cardinal direction. Center.
1. Coffee and the sunrise. Two minutes of silence.
2. Yoga in the baby's room. On a mat sprinkled with snacks, moving through a sequence that splinters more than it flows. I may not finish but I begin. And then I stand straighter.
3. Naptime nursing. She's asleep but I sit here a little longer. Still.
4. One cup of tea. My soul rises with the steam even though I'm solidly here. In front of the doll house.
5. Breath before bed. The day drains slowly but drain it does. Drain, it does.
I don't prostrate myself. I don't recite prayers. But i connect. Rejoice. Give thanks.
We're the same like that.
All of us.
