Bound by time
Lately, I have been fighting with time. We just cannot seem to get on the same page. It is almost like I am trapped in a giant hourglass tumbling through the sands of time. I wake up every morning with sand in my eyes and rush from one thing to the next as the hourglass flips over faster than I can catch my breath.
I feel tightly bound by time. Life is full of alarm clocks and appointments, reminder notifications and calendar items. Places to be and things to do. A time for waking, meditation, writing and a yoga class to be at. Work. Meetings. Doctor appointments. Phone calls. Zoom catch ups. Classes. Courses. Dinner time. Sleep time. Start again. My life is scheduled in every way. Resentment and resistance have been building. The irony of the situation is I have had to book time to be 'free' from time. To find some time to just 'be'.
Yesterday, as I was practising Wayapa and I outstretched my arms to glide like a bird, I looked at things a new way, from sideways. I found a different perspective. And I discovered gratitude in my heart, for time and everything associated with time. I was grateful for the calendar items, for the bells of alarms and the appointments for the experience they offer, including the feelings and states of being. I found gratitude not for what I do in time, but how I exist. Grateful for being.
The tension of being in the moment and knowing what is coming next, suddenly dissolved. I thanked the gentle chimes of the alarm for letting me know I could get up if I wanted to, so I could meditate before making my way to an early yoga class. To be in my body and commit to a beautiful spiritual practice. I took time to listen to the chimes before I got out of bed. Hearing and appreciating the quality of their sound. I honoured my meditation practice and realised in resisting time I influenced the quality of time, everything was task orientated and two dimensional. Yet, when I opened my heart to time, it expanded, as did my heart. And I could experience the moment with new found perspective and experience.
Things became fluid and connected. One thing flowed into the other, smoothly and effortlessly. I could breathe easier and go with the flow without rushing. Time and I became more than friends, we became partners, as I realised there is an abundance of time. This was liberating.
Time moves as fast as I do. If I rush, time rushes. If I use my breathe to slow things down, time slows down. And the moments become richer. The experience becomes richer. As does the being. Within and around me.
Being bound by time wasn't a bad thing after all. Pages of a book are beautifully bound together to create a story. We are bound with the divine. The binding of thread makes beautiful patterns. Celtic knots and the infinity symbol show a binding pattern. Of things weaving together. Of being held together to create something unique together.
The Celtic love knot is of two rope hearts, interlocked. The story goes it was made by sailors during their voyages as a way to remember loved ones. The beautiful embroidery of my heritage, Lithuanian textile patterns are beautiful pictorial stories of folklore inspired by the mystics and nature. Being bound doesn't have to be a constricting rope holding you down, it can be a beautiful weaving. A creation of patterns and stories.
As often is the case, our yoga teacher this morning was in sync with my experience. I was not surprised as she prepared us for our class, when she reminded everyone to try not to focus on each posture individually, or the task of doing the pose right, but to flow from one posture to another and simply be in the postures and be in our bodies. So I did. In doing so, I noticed the beautiful patterns the sand made as it shifted over me. And the rainbow in the air, as the sun filtering through the glass, made me smile.
