Marking

This is Jen. A long time ago I had the honor of dancing with Jen. I'm assuming she's out there somewhere still moving - dancing, mountain biking. She is amazing. She is STRONG. But sometimes I wonder, could she now be a Mom like me? Is she still strong or has she been weakened from years of pregnancy, nursing, midnight disturbances, and lack of time? Like me?

I realized in yoga class today that I am marking. I am going through the motions of being there - I am paying attention and doing everything that everyone else is doing. My muscles are shaking hard as I try to maintain the proper pose. My arm is reaching out. But it is not REALLY reaching. The energy is not coming from my back and radiating out until it beams out my fingertips drawing every eye to where I am pointing. I am not performing my best.

Granted it is easy for me in yoga class to relax and just endure. I have years of dance training behind me and I am in class with "normal" people aside from the gymnastic teacher who occasionally stops in. I don't have to try very hard to look okay. But I know how to perform. And I'm not.

And this makes me wonder, how much of the rest of my life is being marked? Am I fulfilling my life potential? Am I really living or is my life passing me by?

I am at that point where I reflect on where I am versus where I thought I would be. The problem here is that I never imagined any concrete places to visit on my journey.

I moved to Colorado randomly to dance with a dance company. The dance company didn't work out, but I stuck around because I met my husband. I drifted through a series of jobs that were satisfying, but was happy to stay home to raise the kids. The kids happened because I was losing my Dad and I suddenly realized that he would never meet the unconceived kids. The now conceived kids are growing older. Instead of an organized attack, my life is a pinball bouncing around in the machine. Where is the next ball going to bounce?

I believe that every cell in my body has absorbed the life I have lived up to now. I am a product of my environment, a product of what I have done and the people of influence in my life. My posture, my dress, my speech, my beliefs all are a result of my experiences. Like the rings on a tree, I am time stamped. In me, all my life moments make up the whole.

Breath in.

I believe a part of me remains in each place I have glided through. I can drive past the house I grew up in and see my spirit playing Blueberry Hill on the front porch. I can hike through the forest where I ate carry out pizza with my prom date and see us there still eating. I can stand on the mound where I once promised my husband "til death do us part" and we are still promising. In every place a part of me remains.

Breath out.

Is life simply these small moments strung on a chain? Or is it about building each small moment in a pile until one can stack them up and step up to the next rung of being? Are these moments leading up to a point, a goal, an objective?

I pause for a moment in my yoga practice. I take a deep breath in and out. And for a moment I am present, focused, and in the moment with my arm stretched out long and my body radiating my soul. I am not marking, but making a mark.