The Purring Page

Oh, the morning – that magical time when the night’s shadows retreat and the sun peeks over the horizon like a nosy neighbor, eager to spill the first light of gossip. My mornings? A blend of ambition and comedy, starring me, an overly optimistic night owl masquerading as a morning person. Welcome to “Sun Salutations and Other Misadventures: My Quest to Greet the Day with Grace (and Occasional Gravity Checks).”

My alarm doesn’t blare; my room gently brightens, thanks to a fancy light designed to mimic sunrise. In theory, it’s a serene awakening. In reality? It’s my daily serving of confusion, as I awaken every morning wondering if I’m actually seeing the first light of day or if my room is gently catching fire.

Once the initial panic subsides, I engage in a moment of stillness, a practice I’ve read is the cornerstone of a peaceful mind. This is usually interrupted by the sudden realization that I’m running late, catapulting me from serenity to speed with the grace of a cat on a hot tin roof.

Now, onto the yoga mat, my “temple of tranquility,” or so I like to call it. Here, I attempt to contort my body into positions that I’m pretty sure were originally designed as practical jokes by ancient yogis. My version of a Sun Salutation more closely resembles a flailing attempt to shoo away a swarm of imaginary bees. And let’s not forget the “gravity checks” – those moments when my balance decides to take a brief vacation, and I get up close and personal with the floor.

Following this humbling experience, I move on to brewing my morning tea, an act that I approach with the reverence of a sacred ritual and the precision of a mad scientist. The selection of the tea is critical – will it be the calming chamomile or the bold English breakfast? It’s a decision that feels as weighty as choosing the right wire to cut in a bomb defusal scenario.

Mug in hand, I choose my spot by the window, a front-row seat to the morning’s performance. As I sip my tea, I watch the neighborhood come to life. There’s the spirited jogger who trips over the same crack in the sidewalk every day, the beleaguered parent chasing after their escape-artist toddler, and the birds that seem to gossip about the latest seed prices. It’s a sitcom playing out in real life, and I’ve got the best seat in the house.

As my tea dwindles and the cacophony of daily life begins to crescendo, I realize that I’m now fully part of the day, armed with the resilience of someone who’s already taken several metaphorical (and one literal) tumbles. I step into the day’s embrace, ready for its challenges, its joys, and, of course, its next round of gravity checks.

And so, my day begins – not with the poise of a ballet dancer but with the unpredictable rhythm of a jazz musician improvising a solo. This morning ritual, a blend of aspiration and comedy, sets the stage for a day where anything can happen, and usually does. It’s a reminder that while I may not always greet the day with grace, I can always count on a good laugh and the occasional reality check from the universe.

Cats and Witches my keeper my boy my catcher…💞