The Day Begins in the Body

Morning enters along the floor.

A band of gold crosses the wooden boards and stops at the side of the bed. The curtain lifts toward the open window. Leaves move in the bright square beyond it.

I open my eyes.

My first movement is breath.

I place one hand over my chest and one over my stomach. Breath enters. My chest rises. Breath leaves. My hands settle.

Warmth rests beneath my palms. The sheet lies across my legs. The mattress holds my weight.

I smile into the quiet.

The sentence holds the whole rhythm of the day.

Rest.

Wake.

Rise.

I fold the sheet back and sit at the edge of the bed.

My feet lower into the light.

The boards feel warm beneath my soles. My toes spread. My heels come down. I sit long enough to feel my weight gather there.

I say ~

I say it again in an ordinary voice.

“I’m safe in my own body.”

Every word settles into place.

My feet carry my weight. My knees bend. My spine rises. My shoulders rest easily. My hands open beside me.

This body is where the morning finds me.

I lean forward and stand.

The room changes height.

I can see the top of the window frame now. Sunlight reaches my shirt. The curtain brushes my arm and falls away.

I open the window wider.

Morning air moves across my face.

A bicycle chain clicks along the street. A gate closes. A broom whispers over a step. Birds trade notes in the branches.

Each sound carries a small movement with it ~ a foot on a pedal, a hand on a latch, an arm guiding straw across concrete, a wing lifting from a branch.

The neighborhood begins in bodies.

I dress, lace my shoes, and step through the door.

I walk into the sunlight.

My arms swing easily. My breath and footsteps find one rhythm.

I say each affirmation as I move.

The words move with my breath and footsteps.

I picture you at the start of your morning. Light reaches your window. Your feet find tile, carpet, wood, or grass. Your hand opens a curtain or closes around a cup.

We breathe. We rise. We place our feet on the ground.

We enter the morning from the inside out.

Joy has a shape this morning ~ a straight back, an easy jaw, open palms, and an easy stride.

“I’m full of joy and I am relaxed.”

I let the words follow one full breath.

I’m full of joy.

I breathe in.

I am relaxed.

I breathe out.

Gold light crosses the sidewalk. Leaves turn overhead.

“Life is so beautiful.”

I say it aloud and keep walking.

The bicycle rolls ahead of me. The broom keeps its soft rhythm behind me. Birds trade notes above the sidewalk.

I say the whole morning back to myself ~

“I go to sleep when I get in bed, and when I wake up I get up.”

“I’m safe in my own body.”

“I’m full of joy and I am relaxed.”

“Life is so beautiful.”

Rest.

Wake.

Rise.

I take another step.

The day begins in the body.