“where the light falls”

june 21st was the longest day of the year and for me, it (almost) was. my body sore from a run the night before i felt tired, worn, and defeated: i was such a beginner again. not quite starting over, but kind of: the relapse in to not running and the bilateral sprains were both slowing me down, both causing me grief.

it didn’t help that my baby had woken up at four a.m. and despite nursing him and loving him he did not return to slumber; waking his brother and keeping me from sleep, as well. two tired boys and a beyond tired mother a good day does not make.

it’s not just that. it has felt long lately in other ways: the time inside our home less and less enjoyable, for reasons i cannot name and that may not actually even exist. my boys are delightful, my man is a miracle, and my life is bountiful but I have, for whatever reason, felt fraught-wrought with inner dissatisfaction, frustration, sourness – none of which i want to feel and all of which are taking me further from the kind of person / woman / mother that i aspire to be.

as it were, amidst my eldest’s preschool graduation, all-consuming efforts to ensure my boys became rested, and the general monotony of being at home, i overlooked that it was solstice. evidence, entirely, that i had lost sight of the light.

fortunately, saturday brought with it my spouse’s company, encouragement, and support. “yes, of course” he replied when i asked if i could go to yoga, “take some momma time”.

yoga is an activity that i practice for both physical and emotional fitness, you see. my body loves me for attending class, for taking the time to stretch it, strengthen it, and heal it. so does my mind. i always learn something from class, not just about my body, but of myself. it is a place where I can’t talk, and that’s good for me, and, instead, i hear the teacher, i hear my body, i hear my heart, and i actually listen.

instead of my usual digs, i showed up at a studio i hadn’t tried before, lahari yoga in north delta, b.c. the teacher, kim, was welcoming, warm, bright, and accessible and she facilitated a lovely flow class that did me (really) good.

in addition, she prefaced the class by acknowledging the meaning and value of the longest day, the one that i had felt but had forgotten. thank goodness she did. she discussed the role solstice has played across time and across civilization: ritual; ceremony; shrines, and highlighted that man had built a number of structures positioned, purposefully, to maximize exposure to the sun.

of course, this day is immediately followed by a shortening; a subtle dimming that sneaks up on us, finding us surprised come fall, come winter, when the sun is virtually hidden. this turn was also worthy of mention, she, presenting the concept of a half-year opportunity: to identify goals, focus on intention, and manifest resolutions for the next half of 2013.

i heard her. i heard her say half. i heard her at the beginning and i heard her throughout the class. the class that my funky mood so desperately, desperately needed. and, interestingly, everything she said, every instruction and every pose correction, made me think of running and where running would take me in the remaining year’s time.

this side of the solstice, we will begin the actual half marathon training. this side of solstice, i will run my first half marathon, right before my maternity leave comes to a close, a grand celebration of effort (in more ways than one). this side of solstice i will be better, for me and for them.

this side of solstice, i will run; i will chase the light.

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