Monday, December 22, 2008.  It’s 4:00am as I begin to write this and I’ve got one window open, letting in some of the 58 degree air.  I can hear the wind out there, palm trees and oaks rustling, my long tubular wind chimes just outside, sounding their songs.  This is my favorite time of day to have to myself.  I just came in from a quick bike ride around the neighborhood.  I like to make the rounds and say hello to all the neighborhood cats that station themselves along the road and watch as I pass.

I’m blessed to live in a part of the city that has very few street lights, so I can ride for a few blocks at a time under the open starry sky in the moonlight.  It’s an exhilarating feeling in the cool night air.  Then into a warm shower and onto the yoga mat for some stretching and breathing.  Sometimes I watch Namaste Yoga on FitTV channel 112 and am amused that I’ve forgotten the names of so many of the asanas, the poses.  Oh, it was drilled into me yet somewhere along the line I stopped caring so much for labels and let myself forget useful information.

It felt good to stretch my muscles out after the bike ride, and to relax into each stretch.  I give total credit to yoga for the fact that I have no arthritis or joint issues as my mother did.  I’d try to get her to do some shoulder rolls with me, to loosen up and lubricate the joints, but she was afraid to try it.  I knew better than to try to push it.  I’d like to do some light weight training and wish I knew a friend who was into that as encouragement.  I mostly stick to yoga since it’s a daily practice anyway.

After I’ve spent 30-60 minutes stretching and breathing, I sit to meditate for another 30-60 minutes.  My body tells me when yoga is done, and meditation is complete once I feel I’ve made the connection.  Here is My Meditation Process.

Then I came into the office with a mug of hot Throat Coat tea and began going through my emails.  I get lots of emails from Horizons Magazine readers and I love the feedback.  I like knowing what “our” people want to read about, and what they don’t care to read about.  After all, they are who I live for.