Morning, Morning!

(The USVI way of saying "Good Morning!)

Having been in the USVI for a little over 6 weeks, the reality of sunshine living is setting in, though I am still (and hopefully will forever be) awe struck when I wake up around 6am to the sounds of the sea swell below and the light gently streaming into our bedroom from the north. From my bed, a faint peach and subtle lavender of holiness pulls me out to the patio where I can sip in the waking and stirring around me. There is such delight in the fading sounds of the coqui frogs and crickets, the crescendos of distant roosters, the rustling of the palm fronds, the gentle clanging of our wind chime. Let's call it an Island Bustle, for there is no urgent movement or jarring pokes of sound that call in the break of day, rather a slow glow that invites an opportunity to create, or meditate. The cooler temperature without the sun's full attention extending over the hillside, the almost stillness with dawn's subtle light show revelation, and the quiet house(s) of not yet risen humans all make for a moment of solitude that allow me to start my day in harmony with the outside.

I sit for 20 minutes in the is-ness of what surrounds me, aware and yet lulled to a calm with the magnificent unfolding. The waves that crest and fall leaving a fleet of white foam marks to quickly dissolve into the below. The white ghostly shadows that seem to be the reflection of the clouds from above onto the sea below when the light and wind are in sync, making milky streams on oceanic indigo. The chirps of songbirds wetting their whistles for a day of connection through music. The oh-so elegant and stoic flight of the commuting pelicans from east to west that cross the horizon. The movement of water, light and leaves, along with my inhales and exhales, bring to life a melody of shared ease- no having to fix, needing to solve, tasking to tackle. I can't say it is "easy" to sync up to this ease, and yet the practice of observing what looks to me like a flow state of coordinated grace makes for a great teacher, assisting me in a benign release of thought and judgement to the "what if's" and "should's" that tend to congregate in an active and, sometimes, anxious mind.

When I take my morning moments to lean into ease, I then have more space to shed the doubt and worry about what we have just done- this EVAC from our life in Connecticut where things were known and familiar; family, friends, supplies, electrical power, doctors, cell phone plans, sports, grocers and butchers. My concern is still there with this BEing in the moment, as in my thoughts don't simply fall off a cliff never to be seen or heard from again. But, when I can taste the bitterness between being responsible and being opportunistic and things tend to weigh more towards "what have we done?!?" I sit with the breath, the breeze and my center, aware that I am connected with my children and husband in a way that is almost impossible when life travels at the speed of an UBEReats button. As I explore meditation, oneness and the Power of NOW, I learn to assuage the critical voices and meet them without judgement or action. I get to live in the beautiful moment of making pie crusts (a first!) for Saturday's brunch, binge watching Ted Lasso with my family with zero regret, folding the laundry that never ceases, or walking the dogs and coming upon a black rabbit in the street. There is something in this cocktail of newness, discovery, and anticipation that gives me pause and permission to see things through with less white knuckling or urgency.

As a couple, my husband and I are good with change. And yet, as you can probably hear with my tendency towards rumination, imposing change on your children is a bit tougher pill to swallow.; ie, moving them for no reason other than sunshine and taxes. Just writing this on my computer screen makes my shoulders creep towards my ears. So, I return to my breath. I allow the sensations that start in my stomach and reach toward my tightening throat and I imagine the rock in the stream letting water flow over and arounds its own mass. I tell myself that I have already arrived in the here and now. And, man, it's beautiful. If I can root myself into the knowing that I already listened to and that got us down here... If I can let tears stream when I miss my oldest or friends from home... If I can greet each day as a gift to begin again, explore more, and love continually, whatever shows up, be it excitement or doubt, then at least I am modeling something for my kids that will (hopefully) help them get through these new challenges of making new friends, zoom school, staying connected to old friends, liking me enough to keep hanging out with me...

And what remains amidst all of the upheaval and revelation is the practice of trusting of myself, breathing in and sensing the continual brilliance of this precious life.