Today I'm taking time to rest and read and write, and to think about my remaining time here in New York City. The daylight hours are getting longer and the temperatures are steadily increasing.
As a fair weather person, early mornings, late afternoons and evenings are perfect for me. More than one New Yorker has laughed at me when I've complained that 68 degrees and 75 degrees are "too hot for me", and I explain that not all Alaskans are as fair skinned and prone to swooning in these temperatures as I am. We smile at one another, and they apply their suntan lotion with as much vigor as I apply my sunscreen.
In a couple of hours, I'll stretch and move my body, and walk the two blocks to my yoga class. I've been practicing yoga for the past three weeks, grateful for the studio's close proximity to home, the enthusiasm of the teachers, and the attention it encourages me to give to both my breath and to my body, attention usually diverted elsewhere.
It is very easy, in this city that never sleeps, to bounce once from one activity to another and another and another, from one person to another and another and another. I am very good at bouncing. I am not very good at pausing in the spaces in between.
And so today, I yearn for rest, to allow myself to slip deeply in to the pause of here and now, to simply be in this moment. All the while, stilling the voices that wonder what I'm missing, who I'm not meeting.
This being still, a delicate balancing act...
As a fair weather person, early mornings, late afternoons and evenings are perfect for me. More than one New Yorker has laughed at me when I've complained that 68 degrees and 75 degrees are "too hot for me", and I explain that not all Alaskans are as fair skinned and prone to swooning in these temperatures as I am. We smile at one another, and they apply their suntan lotion with as much vigor as I apply my sunscreen.
In a couple of hours, I'll stretch and move my body, and walk the two blocks to my yoga class. I've been practicing yoga for the past three weeks, grateful for the studio's close proximity to home, the enthusiasm of the teachers, and the attention it encourages me to give to both my breath and to my body, attention usually diverted elsewhere.
It is very easy, in this city that never sleeps, to bounce once from one activity to another and another and another, from one person to another and another and another. I am very good at bouncing. I am not very good at pausing in the spaces in between.
And so today, I yearn for rest, to allow myself to slip deeply in to the pause of here and now, to simply be in this moment. All the while, stilling the voices that wonder what I'm missing, who I'm not meeting.
This being still, a delicate balancing act...
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