Writings: Going with the flow…and letting the flow carry ya

Last night the phone alarm went off.

It was in somebody’s purse in the living room, and I didn’t want to wake somebody to get up & get it & turn it off, because somebody was sleeping & apparently didn’t hear it. It had gone off at 6am (still night, here) the rest of the week. Today was Saturday & still night, a time for sleeping.

So here’s what I did: I listened to the sound of the over & over again chime of the ringtone. There were the notes, and the spaces between each note, and the highs and lows of its little melody.

I took a breath in, and released it when the little song ended, then took a new one in when it started again. Soon, I was breathing at the same speed & time as the little song, in rhythm with it.

As I lay there, I relaxed each time I released a breath, and with eyes closed, painted pictures of quiet and slow dancing in a field, set to the beat of a phone in a purse in a living room somewhere in Canada.

As the moments passed, the song pulled into the rear of the dream (or whatever it was), and the field’s smells and warmth crept to the front, along with the sweet feeling of movement in the open air. It was restful, and felt wonderful.

Beats me when the ringtone ended. I was back resting and asleep.

Where did I learn this yogic & transcendent exercise?

Knew you’d ask. So I’ll tell ya.

When I was twelve years old, my parents went to the hospital and came back with twins, who they installed in my room with two cribs and, well, me. Night after night, my job was to get up and make something for them to drink (I usually prepped the bottles beforehand to warm on the stove) & to change them. My traveling salesman father was away and my mom was still recovering from a difficult birth, so it fell to me to attend to them.

It never occurred to me to complain.

It was just my job and I didn’t know there was any other way. But that’s not what I wanted to tell you about.

The boys never woke up at the same time. One could yell his head off, with the other one angelically snoozing; when the first was fed & cleaned up, he’d sleep & sometimes cry himself to sleep, sometimes just go to sleep. Then the other would wake up a while later & we’d repeat the drill.

During this time, when the kids were still crying after I had done my job, I learned to sleep to the rhythm of their yelling. I’d match my breathing to their cries, and match my intake and release of breath with the start and end of each cry. After just a few days, I found that they would quiet down (that helped) as they learned I wasn’t coming to get them; this was my first exposure to operant conditioning. And I found I could find a place of rest & peace, even surrounded by the insistent and sometimes piercing squalls of two fairly determined babies.

I just had to give myself over to the rhythm & tide of the evening.

While this has served me well in other sleeping situations – bus stations, airports, parks during Canada Day, and more, even last night – I like to think it’s a good way to approach the ups & downs of other things around us, as well. Embracing the things around us as just a force of nature, as a repeating sound or to align to the feeling…it’s easier that way.

Surrender? Kinda.

Letting go? In a way.

Getting into the dreams sooner & easier? Yup.

Let me know how it flows, for you, dear heart.

Loving your light,
Brother Ian