That Feeling is Real

It's one of those days when everything looks different, especially light. I opened my eyes after my meditation, and the morning light pouring in through the front door was glowing in that way that it does on really important days. Like those first days of school each year as a kid when there was that mixture of excitement and fear and possibility and anxiety. Mostly good but twinged with a little self-doubt just for humanity's sake. It was that kind of light. When you know you'll never forget this moment, but you're not sure why.

I moved so. much. energy. So much energy that was begging to be moved. Like huge fucking boulders that had just been hanging out since I was, say, 12 years old. Maybe that's why the light is gilded with childhood all around me. Because I'm redoing something. Starting over. 

The burn I get in my belly is so unmistakable when the energy moves. I have doubted it time and again betraying myself in the moment to wonder "is this real? am I fucking crazy?" and then feeling the waves unmistakably coursing through my body again. It's addictive and unsettling and yet totally soothing and comforting. 

C is stirring in her bed, and that sweet squeaky voice chants "mommy! mommy!". The day begins. My little secret kept for only me. Part of me just wants to keep tap tapping at the keys and part of me knows the gooey sweetness bounding for me with stuffed animals in hand is perfectly on time.