As I’ve written about before, I’m quite taken by the space and home I currently live in. I’ve allowed the BikeHaus, a living, breathing experiment and work in progress, to become part of me and my identity. And even though I bitch about living on top of a giant hill, as someone in my bikey family reminded me last night, “It keeps ya sexy longer.” Well said, Mitch, well said.
One of my favorite aspects of the BikeHaus are the fireplaces Quint so carefully reconstructed in each room. When it’s cold outside—or just gross and rainy, like this morning—I turn mine on as soon as I get out of bed. The little set of gas logs in my hearth efficiently and quickly heat my room; I joke that between the fireplace and heated bathroom floors, I create a sauna after getting out of the shower. But I most appreciate drinking my morning tea and writing in front of the fire. (It’s not only what gets me going in the morning, but also contributes to me running late for work some days.)
Today, however, it’s unlikely I’ll be late for a different obligation, the second day of a yoga teacher training weekend. Last night I made it out to a friend’s Christmas party in Stelmo. This girl can do it up! She cooked up a storm, and had a friend bartending and making fancy holiday cocktails. I overindulged in her homemade sweets—particularly the thumbprint cookies—and quickly turned into a (grumpy) sleepy LJ, ready to crawl into my bed.
Since I’ve started my path to greater awareness and self discovery (god that sounds so cheesy), I’ve had to reconsider some of the words, thoughts and phrases I used to describe certain experiences on a regular basis: coincidences, fortune or luck, serendipity—some of these words I used in the past to express the timing or feeling of connections.
For example, I posted about a month ago that I experienced a major, tear-filled breakdown/breakthrough after the last training weekend. Not a minute after emerging from my room, my housemate alerted me to a note someone had left me. These experiences—gifts that arrive at particular moments, conversations that come up at a certain time, people you see immediately after thinking about them—these ENCOUNTERS become increasingly common and frequent for me. Thus, I can no longer describe them as coincidences. I believe my awareness connects me more intimately to my intuition, and through that, I’m more acutely aware of connectedness with other being, people, things, places.
It is no mystery, then, that I left my cellular device, typically glued to my hand or accessible by quick draw in my bag, in a friend’s car last night (but I did avoid riding up the big hill! HA). I e-mailed him and joked about sending smoke signals. Quick communication becomes far more difficult sans cell phone.
How would I wake up in the morning?, I thought to myself last night. My iPhone is typically my alarm. No worries, though. My brain, tuned in to my need to wake early and not oversleep, woke me up at least three times throughout the night, and each time I hurried into the bathroom to look at the clock in there, ensuring I still had a few more hours to sleep. Five a.m. rolled around, and here I am, sitting in front of the fire, drinking tea and blathering on about intuition and my misplaced cell phone.
The other aspect of aligning with intuition is the ability to let go of some worry or concern. Granted, without a little bit of self awareness and SOME sort of mental to-do list, you’d surely get off track with a lost cell phone, for example. But last night I realized I’d be just fine without that form of communication. Hell, I have the Internet and a computer at home. I can contact almost anyone through that, though I don’t really need to; I arranged a ride to training this morning with Hillary via Twitter.
While I am slightly addicted to accustomed to the immediacy of text messaging, email and friggin Instagram being at my fingertips, it’s nice to have a break from the techno leash that is my phone. To wake without an alarm (though I likely woke with alarm…), to sit quietly and write, and to know that whatever connection I need, whether by riding my bike somewhere, getting in touch with someone, or the GREATER sense of connecting with someone or something, is well within my reach.