Tada – mountain.
Still, strong, unwavering you stand tall against any opponent. You are non-combative yet your presence gives me the power of a warriors from a time of grace and quiet confidence.
With you I feel balanced and able to listen attentively to the subtle body’s whispers. I broaden my shoulders and feel the surge of energy pull up through the aches of my feet and the gentle waterfall down my back and through my heels; connecting me to the circle that is life.
Although you may seem easy, you are much more strengthening than meets the eye. I admire that confidence in you – it’s something that I want to emulate in my own life. It doesn’t matter what people assume or believe based on first experience, the more they meet you and experience your ways they discover that actually you have a much more transformative quality than a breather in between positions.
You let me see the importance of standing still. As a natural rusher, it’s an important part of my practice to slow down and find the calm that exists in the flood, especially at this time of year. That’s why I found meditation so difficult for the first month, to be alone with my thoughts and to live in the emptiness was terrifying to me. With practice and with confidence, you helped get me accustomed to the pause. To the silence between breaths.
In media we are often shown the power of the motionless body. Like in horror movies, where the tension is built and pace broken in a heart-stopping heel-turn when the bad guy pauses in their chase of the hero. The power of the break in full action is so heavy and gives the bad guy all the power in the scene. Or like in the climax of a romantic film where the main characters pause to look at one another because the connection between them is otherworldly (like when Hugh Grant sees Julia Roberts for the first time in Notting Hill).
We are shown time and time again the power of stopping whether it is your choice or happens upon you by happy accident. Taking that pause and using it to its full potential is where the good stuff hides. You have shown me that I can do both and be safe and be kind.
This year, I promise I will take the note and connect to the flow.
I promise I will embrace the quiet of the winter earth and the hush of slow, unfurling magic.
I promise I will step out and reconnect if the energy becomes too much for me.
I promise I will reflect the mountain and find the balance.
I love you, always.