House of the Rising Sun

We get a show every morning. It doesn't always look like this. 

But something is always happening over that lake.

On this particular morning, I woke up mad. It happens. I knew I wasn't allowed to eat or drink anything because I had to leave at 6:45 to go to the doctor in Jackson. Testing for gestational diabetes. Great.

Not even water. But as I stumbled to the kitchen out of habit, not sure what I would have done in there anyway, tired and angry and hungry and thirsty, I looked out my window and saw this. 

Jackson and I went outside, breathing the cool air, and I stood in awe. Damn. It got prettier every second. Talk about meditation. Nothing takes you into gratitude like seeing something like this brilliant scene. God, the funkiest artist. The most radical, top-notch director of shows. My mood transformed, and all of a sudden, everything felt magical. I felt connected and uplifted. Jackson and I might have been the only creatures to see it exactly like that from where we stood.

So I felt loved. That was a crazy, busy day. I did not walk through it on a cloud. Three more hours of hunger and thirst and failing a diabetes test put me out. But that sunrise prepared me. I stayed pretty much uplifted throughout the day.

Not everyone chances upon magnificent sunrises every morning. A good way to get into the feeling of preparedness, of being loved and to try to hold on to that lifted feeling throughout the day is to practice a  few sun salutations toward the east, first thing in the morning.

(Courtesy of smashboard.com)

Get the body moving and warmed. Get into the breath. Get into the moment. Get into worship mode.

The Sun Salutation A's that I teach vary from the one above, so feel free to change it up for yourself, do what feels right. Even if it's just standing there in Mountain pose, feeling the ground beneath you.

You know that I kind of fight against anything that is expected of me or of women "like me." I've always resisted any type of boxing and especially the labeling of that box. So consequently "free-spirited" is often the adjective I hear about myself, which I recognize as another box, 

but at least it has a prettier label. 

But you know? We're all going through the same things. I'm thinking about paint colors and house repairs, and I feel like a nesting mama. But that's what I am. Put me in a box labeled "Nesting Mama," because that's exactly what's going on here. 

I love this child, punching and kicking from within. I love my husband, helping and being sweet through all this. And I love my house, which I seem determined to turn into a cozier, prettier place this winter for us, my baby, and guests who come here. 

And maybe just for the house's sake. To show love for the house, wherein I see a show in my backyard every day. To show gratitude for living here, in the House of the Rising Sun.

(I realize this song was about a house in New Orleans that could have been a brothel/drug and alcohol haven and/or prision, but humor me as I try to turn something dark into light). 

Rising,

Liza Jane