A Single Moment

My attempt at bringing awareness into the little, meaningless scenes that make up our lives

It’s a Thursday morning, and my body is a swirling vortex of post-yoga bliss. I’m accompanied by my bougainvillea’s I picked yesterday on my walk, savoring my goat yogurt with honey and coconut shreds. There is a dampness to my underarms, and my quickly beating heart begins to slow down as I listen to Brazilian bossa nova and observe my thoughts. This is the space of creation. No outside influence, only my own pure experience of presence. I wish I could remain like this always, not observing other lives online (which immediately preludes envy and comparison), but staying in my own snapshot of time. This is my now. I don’t even want to open my phone for the remainder of the day, for the fear of my emotions swallowing this peace.

I admittedly approached my mat to release tension in my quads, which are currently in recovery from a high-activity day— kayaking, surfing and a workout was certainly pushing it. But in its own way, it needed to happen, so I could re-appreciate the softness, return to moving and stretching in the quiet morning sun, and sit in meditation as the birds and buzzing insects re-attuned my body.

Following one of my favorite yoga teachers online, I entered a trance, mirroring her movements. Just as the tightness in my muscles began to expand, so too did my various, disconnected thoughts—stretching out into an abyss of nothingness. Then, shavasana.

I pictured myself as a crystallization of light, the divine jewel of my soul shining. Opening my eyes, I felt an overwhelming feeling permeate the present moment as I moved forward. The otherwise boring breakfast became a heavenly experience. The bossa nova music delighted my ears, the words flowed from my heart, the yogurt satisfied every taste bud. This I must remember.

To maintain the ritual, and drop the routine. Instead of reverting to my actions mechanically, like a robot ticking off the to-do list, I aim to keep this intention alive. This is done by being mindful of the space I am creating. Ask yourself—what’s around me, what music is playing, what energy is in the air?

Even here in Costa Rica, I find myself living mechanically—after all, chores are chores. But when I remember to do each act with care and attention, it resets my nervous system. For me, it even comes down to the rings I’m wearing, to my posture, to how I pour the water for my hibiscus tea, to how softly I close the fridge or the windows. This is not an easy task; it requires turning the brain on, actively rejecting default mode. Granted, while typing away, I grabbed my leftover sourdough biscuit in a frenzy of appetite. But this time, rather than gnawing it down in the blink of an eye, I savored it. I really tasted its flaky crust and buttery insides, feeling its movement toward my belly, filling it with sweet satisfaction. I notice the air getting warmer, minute by minute. Perhaps I’ll turn the air conditioning on. And so, slowly, I stand, gently shut the window, and turn it on—not in haste. Habitual and mindless acts I would otherwise ignore.

So earlier, while in post-yoga meditation, I prayed. I asked for this endurance of peaceful, present energy. For you, for me, for all of us. May you find bliss and contentedness in each and every otherwise mundane scene.

And now, a poem by Rumi:

Decadent, delicious.

The more I move my body, the more I open up my mind. Creative expansion.

Let go of thought!

Don’t take it into your heart!

You are naked,

and thought is like ice.

You use thought to seek

release from suffering and pain,

while thought is the cause of your suffering and pain.

The realm of creation

is outside the scope of thought.

O foolish one,

see the opus, and behold the beauty!

Look in the direction

from which the images flow.

See the brook that causes the wheel to turn.

— Rumi