On a recent Saturday in July, I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. We all do it. Maybe we slept poorly, or ate or drank something the night before that didn’t agree with us. Maybe we were awakened at midnight by a feverish child or we had a weird dream. Or, maybe there was no good reason at all. Just a funk.
Or, a midlife crisis. Whichever.
Upon waking up to this mood — because it was right there to greet me when I opened my eyes — I felt my breath catch and my heartbeat quicken. Pretty sure I’m having a heart attack, I thought. My breath began to stop and start, big pauses in between. Anxiety crept in.
Well, shit. This is going to be a bad day.
So I started breathing. If there’s one thing that yoga has taught me… it’s been this: BREATHE.LIKE.YOU.MEAN.IT.
Hearing your breath, you can’t help but start listening to it, listening to YOU. The flow of oxygen wakes everything up, and for me it hits the ignition on that force of my life, connecting me back to myself, connecting my body to my mind.
The day dragged on. I breathed through it, accepting that it was an “off” day. I drove to Whole Foods, where I figured I’d pick up a few items and head home to watch a movie, alone. Had a bit of trouble parking. Nothing new there.
But I finally managed to slip into a sliver of a space. As I was getting out of my car, I received a text from my friend, Kate.
This involved driving northward 15 miles to get home, where I’d have to rifle through my closet and find suitable attire. Maybe apply some makeup. Be wedding-ready. Only to turn around again and head south 20 miles for the oceanside ceremony and reception. Hmm. Well, let me think abou-
Last minute invitation to a wedding to celebrate two excellent people? With a band and a whole lotta dancing? You noticed she said ten minutes, right?
Total no brainer. I so love a party. I so love to have fun. But, mostly I love to celebrate people.
Nineteen minutes later, I was dressed and Kate and I were cruising to the wedding. I had met the bride and groom once before, and I liked their energy and big hearts. They seemed like two people who unabashedly loved to love. As we arrived, I tried to blend in with the crowd…of whom I did not know a single soul. Going to a wedding as a last minute date felt a little like eating at a restaurant, alone. Little out of my comfort zone. But did I mention there was a band? And oceanside views?
The ceremony was gorgeous, and I’m actually not talking about the seascape. Seeing the bride come down over the grassy hill, her Mom and Dad on each arm, I began to cry. Such a sweet, sweet sight. Such LOVE. The way Dad looked at his daughter’s radiant smile, the way Mom’s fingers were so tightly sheathed around her youngest daughter’s hand. And the dimples on the bride’s face so visible, her face beaming like the bright sun.
For a moment, my less than splendid day got a whole lot worse as old movie reels began to play in my head surrounding my own parents’ divorce. And as I thought about parenting my own children without a partner by my side. But lest I get swept away by my own sentimental seas, the ceremony continued with beautiful music and words, each reading recited with heartfelt affection. In what felt like a minute, with the ocean so mesmerizing and glimmering behind their heads, the bride and her groom were married, sealed airtight with a kiss, and the lively reception began.
I mingled. And mangled. A couple conversations. Still a little unable to turn around my day, I pushed myself to socialize and meet new people. Everywhere I went, there was tremendous girl power. It seemed every woman there owned her own butt-kicking business or had penned a book that I added to my mental bookshelf, or was a wellness educator or a love coach or who was simply and wildly, compellingly awesome.
As a group, we collectively danced to the band as if we’d all won the golden ticket to the best concert of our lives. The vibration in the room, if you can call a tent next to the ocean a room, was sky-scraping. The energy was buzzing – so much that I felt if I reached out and touched an arm, the arm of a stranger – there would be an electrical stream of some kind, permeating my soul.
When I finally came face to face with the beautiful bride, she pulled me in for a titanic hug. So glad you could be here, she said in my ear. It’s so… perfect. And then. That current. That SPARK.
These people are all so HAPPY, is what I’d thought just a few hours before. These people have found Utopia and apparently it exists right here in Southern Maine.
Yet I’ve studied enough about yoga and Buddhism to know that these people actually hadn’t found Utopia at all. They’d created it themselves. Each of them, in their own way, had made a choice. Carve out a space of contentment and live there. Or retreat into a place where you’re always searching. Searching and fact finding for a supreme sense of well-being that GUESS WHAT?
Already resides inside of you.
I know this to be true, this was not a newsflash. But this concentrated version? This extensive group of specialized awesomeness all in one latitude?
They were sending me a message.
You woke to a not so special day. You’re feeling a little dispirited.
So lift yourself up again. And this time, try living there.
It doesn’t mean there won’t be another lousy day. Or that those we love won’t pass on. Or that illness won’t become a part of our own immediate landscape.
This life cycle, it happens. I wholeheartedly understand that.
But it does mean — and this is a choice — that contentment is available to you. It’s simply a matter of opening your heart up enough to reach out and capture it.