Mountain Pose

In previous postings, I have mentioned that Sundays have a different feel for me.  They are steeped in memories.  Now I am realizing that Saturdays feel that way, too.  So I have been contemplating why do weekends feel so unique.  In fact, it's more than just a feeling; it is as if I am transported.  There is no similar occurrence for weekdays. 
On Saturdays I can feel the bustle of chores being done, and a special lunch being made.  My mother worked full time so weekends were different; she was around and busy.  Sundays, of course, were all about the weekly trek to the small Lutheran church  which included its own cast of characters and always a wonderful Sunday dinner. On the way home from church, my dad always swung over to the mailbox to grab the Sunday paper.  While my mother put the finishing touches on dinner, my dad would watch the late morning news shows.   In later years, we might have gone out to eat on Sundays.  These rituals began as a small child and continued until my mother passed away at age 78.  I still spent time with my father, but things were never the same.  My children became a part of this routine, too.
Until recently, I couldn't really understand why were these things so ingrained in my brain (to the point of almost being there).  It is finally clear that those people and experiences were the longest in duration of any others in my life.  They became in my mind a place of security and longevity. 

This brings me to why I named the post "Mountain Pose."  I do yoga several times a week in my home, and each exercise begins with that pose and returns often to it.  Mountain Pose is a place of grounding, strength and well being.  It's simple but profound.  Your legs are planted on the Earth, the chest and head are slightly elevated, and you stand strong and secure.  Now I make the connection between that special period of time in my life and this pose.  My parents, the people of that community and all the experiences associated with it were my "mountain pose."  One by one those people and those times have been wrested from my life and now at the age of almost 54, I have to come to terms with that and learn to look back with gratitude and fondness.  It can never be recreated.  I can't join a local Lutheran church and make Sundays dinners and expect it to be the same.
I suspect that weekends will always have a different feel; that will not end.  It is nice to come to an understanding of why.

Thought for the day:  Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.”
― Dr. Seuss