Tonight, after I dozed off reading on the sofa, I woke with the realization that I hadn’t done my daily 30 minutes on the zafu yet. This has occurred several times in the past couple of weeks, which have been full of change and wonder.
My late evening sittings have brought more familiarity with the state of fatigue.
I sit late, aware from the start that my brain is slowing down at the end of a day, accepting that.
If I’d been lying down, I would have fallen asleep in no time at all. Sitting cross-legged with no back support does tend to keep one awake!
I tune into what fatigue feels like.
Fatigue feels sweet when you just sit with it, because of the stillness and silence. Fatigue can rest in that. Fatigue can settle into that very well.
Fatigue feels slow. Slow like your slow Uncle Joey. I am not at my best in terms of mental alertness. I sense a vulnerability in fatigue, an inability to strategize, to plan, to make wise decisions. Not exactly torpor, though, because there is this curiosity about fatigue.
Fatigue is body centered and feels sluggish. Fatigue can fill my whole body with gratitude for inertia as my mind slowly checks out my whole body awareness, which is duh, a no-brainer when fatigued!
I feel tender toward my fatigued self.
And then, the bell rings, and I get up, and somehow, I’m refreshed, have gotten a bit of a second wind.