I sit at the center of everything swirling around me – family, relationships, day-to-day mundane house tasks, back-end business work, malas, politics, history, life.
And I breathe. I feel myself rooted in all of it, trying to spin some identity out of all of it, weaving it all together in a balanced way and,
sometimes I can’t.
Sometimes the balance drops out and the plan to make a few malas is replaced with cleaning around the house to create space that feels calm and inviting.
Sometimes the desire to catch up on a show is replaced with the need, the deep need, for a solid night of sleep.
Sometimes the feeling of needing to root myself in thoughts of my business is interrupted by horrific and unnecessary police shootings and the fiftieth anniversary of the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. and suddenly the malas, the business, feel, well, detached from reality somehow.
I come back again to my breath, even on days when I do not sit down and chant to Ganesha or Saraswati. My breath is always there. My breath is everything.
And I realize these practices that can feel distant and detached are quite the opposite. The malas, the mantras, the meditation practices, they all root me. They are the thread that weaves these parts of me – of all of us – and they allow me to continue to do the work that needs to be done on many levels and in many arenas.
The plan changes quickly, and when I adapt and follow the flow, I find that I end up right where I need to be.