Another neighbor died this week. Same apartment. I did my practice Thursday as the aftermath transpired just outside my open window. Wished them well. Death has been on my mind.
I am meditating nearly every day, but more and more, with all the practice and the walking and the sitting, I find the line between meditation and not-meditation is blurred. The effects of this are obvious in my working life. There is an increased energetic sensitivity. I am hearing the voice of intuition. I feel spontaneous rushes of compassion in all of its heart-centered, bitter-sweet richness.
Practice has been well and good. The mid-week short practice (Primary through Purvottanasana and finishing) has been a life-saver. This week, I did an evening practice twice in addition to the morning Ashtanga to focus on my hips and help rehab my knee. The extra work seemed to make a big difference. In today's Primary, both hips were nicely open.
Woke up earlier than usual this morning to be at work by 7:30am. As I bedded down last night, I was not totally confident that I'd be able to get up in time to do full Primary. In order to make it work, I knew I'd have to abandon all of my pre-practice rituals: the nauli, the neti, the tea, the facebook. I'd have to wake up and get right on the mat, which is exactly what I did. It was a great practice. Not my strongest, physically, but so open, so quiet.
(Note to self: the chattering of the mind is quieter before facebook.)