My neighbors thought I was a strange child. I would rise with the sun. Mother would eventually let me outside. I’d walk along the rocks in the yard. I am told often with umbrella open on a sunny day, singing. I have vague memories of this but it has been recounted by many witnesses. I don’t remember what I sang. I think I made up my own songs. I loved to sing and I always heard music in my head.
I did not grow up to be a high wire walker or a musician.
I grew up to be a textile designer. I don’t remember when I stopped walking with an open umbrella or singing my own songs.
I do know I am hearing the songs and music again.
It is inside me. Sometimes song emerges and sometimes it is notes but it is everpresent and I am aware again.
What is it to be aware?
To stop the chatter in the mind and truly experience the moment, the present.
I remember reading that Frank Sinatra could not read music yet he created unique musical arrangements. His delivery unlike others. Shirley MacLaine wrote that Frank heard “celestial music.” One would not think immediately of Frank Sinatra as an evolved soul or enlightened being, but in music he was just that.
I did not intend to write about Frank Sinatra or my odd behavior. This is where I was led as I opened my mind and discarded what I thought I should write. I let go of the struggle to be clever and meaningful and this emerged. Life lessons with Sinatra. Yes – yoga via Sinatra. Allowing the awareness to take place. Letting go of doing, trying, and just being. Lofty aspirations that are accessible. This is what yoga has brought to me or shall I say brought me back to; that little girl on a rock with an opened umbrella singing a made-up tune in the wee morning hours – content and unabashed.
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