I did it again. I dropped off the training radar.

I attended a single karate class, and knowing what it takes to perform kata at a high level, decided no, not for me, not now. Besides, there is an unmistakeable tension in the dojo air, a competitiveness that is the opposite of where I am headed at the moment.

I have attended yoga only erratically in recent weeks, doing nothing at home. I will return to it, I know, but not now. I am just too tired.

I am not even walking.

My mind and body crave rest.

So that’s what I’m training in: rest. It is not easy with a home and family, with work and errands and messes to clean up.  But once a day, I read and I nap.  It’s my practice, for now. Most days, right after lunch, I burrow under my thick duvet and snuggle in with a book. I read until my eyes grow thick and heavy, and then I lie there, still but not sleeping, maintaining my awareness. A meditation of sorts, albeit lying down. It feels to me like the deep rest Tama Kieves writes about in This Time I Dance, a necessary undoing that precedes a time of change, of transition. Also, the break I need to recharge, from early and busy mornings to late and even busier evenings.  Maybe just a touch of the post-Indian Summer blues, too, the regret that comes with approaching winter season.  I know that I need to return to physical practices, to move my body, to wake it up, to get out into fresh air and connect with the outside world, with people, too. But for now, a little hibernation is what calls me.

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