View from a Window

I  have decided to return to my practice of doing three yoga sun salutations most mornings. I do these in front of either the bedroom or the living room windows. In the middle of each salutation, I do what is called a child's pose. In this pose, I am on the mat curled up into a ball with the top of my head on the mat, arms at my side. In this position (more comfortable than it sounds) I say a spoken prayer of gratitude, and then I move into what is called a Sphinx pose where I am lying prone on the floor with my legs stretched out behind me. My elbows are close to my body and I lift up my upper torso, not with my arms but rather my chest, resting for a few moments on my lower arms. On Monday morning as I lifted my torso, I was greeted with a view of beautiful pink clouds strewn above the Dunsmuir Ridge. I confess that in that moment I did feel rather Sphinx-like as I silently looked out over land and sky before I continued my movements.

We also had a beautiful sunset on Monday. Our view to the west out our kitchen and dining room windows. revealed a red sky that was stunning in its intensity, unfortunately perhaps because of the Timber fire in Monterey County. Our view to the east was also dramatic. A line of pink clouds stretched along the horizon. A bright waxing Gibbous moon shone above.  No, none of our views are entirely clear due to trees and houses in all directions, and certainly the view of Hwy 580 in the east is less than scenic, but over time we have come to love the views we have. Last night the not yet full moon shone brightly, pouring light through our bedroom window. If our sky is clear on the 26th, we should be able to witness the Sturgeon full moon.

I am grateful that I can look up and see the sky, even if we cannot see many stars because of light pollution. I am also grateful for my yoga class. Over time, I have learned to live with my arthritis, and to respect it. Some poses I simply cannot do. So I pause and rest, and practice honoring what my body can, and cannot do. 

Our neighbors across the street and down a couple of houses are having a new roof put on their house. Roofing is noisy, strenuous work. However, one of the roofers whistles beautifully, and I often hear him whistling, despite the sound of hammering. He reminds me of a bird that has alighted at the top of the roof to sing his song. Yesterday, I watched one of the roofers, not a particularly young man, pause for just a few moments before he began to climb the ladder to the roof. Perhaps he was saying a prayer, or maybe he was just focusing his attention, so his steps and balance would be sure.     

      

See wonders.  

Bow to Mystery.  

Act for the benefit of all.   

      

Rabbi Yael Levy,  

Psalms, Ancient Songs for These Times     

       

         image:  Backyard Iris, 2026