Stop Stealing From Yourself

The cool evening air rests like a balm against my steamy, very alive skin.

Returning shoes to feet, I dance away from the studio towards my car, throwing a little saunter and flair into my step. I smile quietly to myself, with mischief and delight.

I can feel the fire the room cultivated, individually and collectively, flowing up my spine, spilling out of my crown—circulating, alivening. Fire is God these days.

Pausing at my car door, I’m entranced by the setting sun cutting through the towering Douglas Fir trees before me, the lovely west coast staples that ooze “home.”

No sunset is ever the same. The light filtering between the trees never dances to the same tune. No moment is ever lived again.

One of the themes from the night’s class bubbles up as I gaze into the setting sun:

Stealing from yourself, and others, is dangerously easy if you’re not careful.

Not cookies from the cookie jar or sweets from the store, but life’s most precious resources; the things that really matter and are genuinely irreplaceable.

Time.

Energy.

Attention.

Presence.

Love.

All can leak away even in the most benign, casual-feeling moments.

Saying “I wish I was there!”

A lingering, wistful glance at someone who is not your partner.

Asking someone a question but not truly listening to their answer.

Fretting about what might happen in the future, or happened in the past.

Not being in your body during pleasure, instead drifting elsewhere in your mind.

All are examples of stealing from your present, a silent death by a thousand cuts.

Only you can decide whether to live in the moment at hand.

The reward is the greatest gift you can give and receive:

Presence.

With love from the forest,

~ Alexander