Thirteen days until D-Day. I felt very strange today, like I wasn't one with my self. I've been very restless, probably due to the fact that all possible preparations for Seattle are finished for now. I also haven't been getting enough sleep because I've been trying to fit everything in... saying goodbye and spending quality time with my loved ones leaves me staying up late, and I have to get up early. I couldn't even quiet my mind enough to take a nap while the baby napped today.
In the early afternoon, I took the baby for a walk to get a bite to eat. On the side of the apartment building there is a sidewalk leading up to the street. When I was pushing the stroller up the pathway, I noticed a little brown bird, maybe a wren or a sparrow, sitting in the middle of the path. It didn't fly away or even move as I approached, and when I reached it I bent down to see that it just sat with its eyes closed, not flinching from me at all. I took a piece of plastic from the basket of the stroller and slid it under the bird and moved it to the little garden area next to the sidewalk. It tried to hobble away but neither its wings or legs seemed to be working and it kept falling onto its face. I called my dad, wondering if there was anything I could do for the little thing. He told be it's just nature, and the only thing I could do for it was to give it some peace. So I left it tucked beneath the shrubs and walked away with the baby sitting blissfully unaware in the stroller. When I returned with a grilled cheese sandwich and a bag of macaroons, the bird was dead.
Even though it was small, not a highly significant part of this circle of life, the spirituality of the moment affected me. Being there for some of this creature's last moments, and knowing that in such a brief glimmer of time it had gone from alive to dead was a strange thing.
I wasn't largely affected by this in a negative way throughout the rest of the day, but it did add to my general feeling of ennui. After work, despite the rain that had threatened for most of the day, Liz and I went to yoga in the park. We were two of three brave souls who ventured out into the uncertain weather, but the skies stayed closed for the hour and yoga was beautiful, as it always is, especially outside nestled in a collection of trees and being kissed by the evening breeze.
After about 45 minutes of plank pose, cat and cow, and downward dog, we went into Shivasana, a laying down pose used to quiet the mind, relax the body, and let your muscles soak up the motions of the poses we just completed. Usually it's impossible for me to quiet my mind and I end up thinking about what I want for dinner or the ant crawling up my leg, and this time wasn't much different, except for one moment. I don't know if I let my self-awareness die for just a moment or if I finally achieved nirvana, but all of a sudden I felt hands on my face. Not the weight of them or even the warmth of them... just an unexplainable presence. And without even thinking, I thought "Hi, Mom." Such a strange thing for me, because I'm usually so cerebral that I over-think or block out these feelings. But, as I was in Shivasana and attempting to connect with something higher or bigger or more spiritual than myself, I just continued to feel her hands on my face, and I told her that I loved her. Even now as I write this it would be easy to talk myself out of it, tell myself that it was the nerves in my face soaking up the energy that my body released. But the fact that my immediate thought was "Hi, Mom," without a moment's hesitation, and the feeling of her hands on my face lasted long after I became physically aware of it makes me believe that she paid me a little visit on a day when I needed a little extra love from my mom.
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