|by Hafiz. Posted on Instagram by ritual.house of yoga.|
Holding my black coffee and standing in my front window, the world outside had that familiar feeling of being what I call "too beautiful to bear." Those are the words that floated into my mind as I was looking at what was otherwise a dull, gray, Seattle morning. The filtered morning light held a touch of Spring, the squirrel pouncing over the neighbor's driveway and the tiny gardens on our lawn felt Spring-like too. My upstairs neighbors drove by, father taking daughter to school, and I imagined them chatting about their day or the books they were currently reading. Across the street, another neighbor opened their curtain and was also looking out their window, but just hidden enough by the birch trees to guard from exposing my moment.
I've heard those words before, "too beautiful to bear". I always hear them when I am clear minded, paying attention, and observing nature or humanity. It's the most beautiful feeling that I struggle with not pushing away. It's as if I know it can't last, but the beauty makes me want to hold onto it forever. The two cannot coexist and it's immediately bittersweet as soon as I hear those words repeating in my head. The only time I can say I truly felt that beauty and had no desire to push it away was right after each of my babies were born. Everything made sense and I could bear that beauty over and over again, for eternity.
Maybe it's that I am on day 2 of the Whole30 and I haven't drank wine or had anything to toxify my system, maybe it's that I've been focusing on gratitude for 11 days now, or maybe it's the calm after the storm that was getting my 13 year old to go to bed last night. Whatever it was, I basked in that inner glow until I couldn't bear it any longer and my brain shut it all off. The mud became ugly, the birds chirping became dull, the light held less magic all of a sudden, I wondered if my neighbor across the street thought I was weird for standing in my window for so long, and I felt impatient. The big, yellow school bus I had been waiting for finally drove by, and I smiled the biggest smile I could possibly get into my face, the kind that shows you're feeling so much joy that you don't care how your face looks, and waved to my youngest as she rode by.