“One, two, three—get up.” I think as my feet hit the floor and I slowly drag myself out of bed. Dani P. called this the rocket launch technique—“You don’t give yourself time to think before leaving the bed, and before you know it, you’re already walking towards the bathroom”, he once said during lunch.
My phone says it’s 6:05 a.m. I could sleep a little longer, but I took a long nap yesterday afternoon, and I’d really like to get some painting time in before heading to school.
I make my way to the living room. Everything is quiet except for the soft padding of my feet against the cold floor. I think through my options:
• Fix the water stains on the black-and-white piece (I used Bristol instead of watercolor paper… whoops).
• Add the white lines to the new quiet painting—“Can it really be considered quiet with all that red in it? I guess we’ll see” , I muse.
• Work on the green painting, which desperately needs some life breathed into it.
Mmm… choices.
A new drawing altogether it is.
Rummaging behind the desk, I find the spot where I keep my big papers safe. Making sure to grab watercolor paper this time, I pull out a sheet, set it on the floor, and choose one of my new Chinese ink pens—the ones with that nice, flexible felt tip.
Slowly, the lines begin pouring out of me, short and closely spaced. I always marvel at how they start aligning perfectly under each other as I move. My favorite part is when my mind begins to quiet down. One would think there wouldn’t be so much noise in my head this early in the morning, but that’s just me. And that’s what my rayitas are for—to drain, to make room for more thoughts, more experiences, more feelings, more surprises.
I’m grateful for my practice, for the rayitas that help me breathe more easily, and for giving myself this extra hour to find my center.