I just found myself swaying back and forth, as if I was soothing a baby without the accompanying arm posture. I realize that I have a bunch of unique habits and quirks, but I think there is something universal about this one. As babies, we are often rocked and cradled. As adults, many of us dance to sooth ourselves or let go of some excess energy. Maybe we are actually creating energy, enlivening ourselves, but in a relatively calm way through the action of swaying.
As part of my "day off" morning ritual (work days are a completely different breed), I dance. I sway. I jump. I giggle. I write. I bounce. I leave half-eaten breakfast somewhere as I attempt to get my stretch on. On calm, peaceful mornings, I put on a pot of tea and gaze out the window. I rock myself whilst sipping in the contents of my warm cup.
Sometimes I fold my arms across my chest and hug myself. Sometimes my arms are dancing to a rhythm of their own. Still other times, they are delicately poised with an invisible baton, ready to coax the melodic sounds in my head into existence through willpower alone.
On this still morning, my body moved with conscious awareness. My body was moved out of emotion and passion; my brain had little to do with controlling its movement. My muscles didn't need to be told what to do. What I mean by "conscious awareness" is merely observing. Rather than interrupt their graceful strides and stretches, I watched myself, in a way. This awareness brought about a nostalgic thought. My body remembers something my mind does not.
It remembers this ancient dance. It remembers my mother's soothing touch. Sometimes, we feel something inexplicable when we hold a baby. Something timeless. If we observe our own reactions to children, we often realize that we rock back and forth. It is truly an ancient dance. I often notice when I behave differently around babies, but I also do it on occasion by myself.
When you long for the touch of a lover, and create a space full of similar loving energy surrounding you, notice how you behave differently. When you reminisce about the early days of your child's life, notice how your heart beats differently. When you meet yourself where you are in still silence, and feel the urge to sway, thank your parents for sharing an ancient secret with you. Thank them for rocking you as a child, because it enabled you to soothe yourself as an adult. Even when you are all alone, you may smile at yourself or have the urge to dance or move differently. This morning, I danced in the dim light of the winter sun, and it warmed my heart.
Message of the Day: Rock yourself. Sway with your lover. Pass on this timeless secret of serenity to your children.
...Or don't. It won't change my reality. Cheers!
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