Life seems to go a little something like this:
It's the times when I
need yoga the most that I feel the laziest. The restlessness builds up through my spine and what I need is to flip upside down, draw circles with my body and engage in some light head-banging. But what I end up doing is sitting at the computer reading stories about other people doing yoga.
It's the times when I
need to write the most that I feel the least creative. My mind races with stories untold - which are dying to be told - and I catch myself speaking aloud, writing it all into thin air. These are the times that my hands crave the catharsis of writing. These are the times when I sit, with idle hands, still reading stories about other peoples stories.
So in an attempt to get this out of me, to unleash whatever it is that is building up inside me, I fly through a couple of sun salutations. I sit down to write. Only to discover that my body really does just want some rest. My fingers really don't feel like finging at all.
It's best not to force it.
Here's a poem instead. A lovely little poem by Clay Harrison.
One to remind me to take solace in, and give thanks to, the simple things in life.
One to remind me that sometimes it's okay to be a bit lazy and uncreative.
A poem that could just as easily be called "
Stop fucking worrying about what your'e not doing and pay attention to all the wonder that's happening around you! See those trees changing colour? They don't care whether or not you did yoga today. Enjoy the beauty of the moment...then go write about it."
Precious Moments by Clay Harrison
Rainbows and roses after the rain,
The splendor of twilight embracing the plain...
Strolls by the seaside beneath a full moon,
A butterfly's flight from an empty cocoon.
A carpet of leaves of pure autumn gold,
Reflections of love in the young and the old...
Blossoms of apple and cherry and plum,
The joy of a child when Christmas has come.
The beauty of sunset setting the hillside aglow,
The wonder and peace of new fallen snow...
Bee's making honey, the glory of spring,
A mockingbird learning a new song to sing.
The stillness of dawn's pale lavender skies,
The leaping of hearts when a baby first cries...
The splendor and grace of an eagle in flight,
The silence of stars guarding the night.
A baby's first step, a daughter's first prayer,
Our flag proudly waving in cool mountain air...
A lover's first kiss, a hug from a friend,
It's these precious moments we pray never end.
