Today, at 5:30am, I found myself driving on the Parkway, on the way to teach a yoga class.  I was listening to NPR, the windows were rolled down, and the cool, damp, morning breeze was blowing through my hair.   I had a brief flash of younger days, driving with the windows rolled down. And all of a sudden, I thought:

How the hell did I get here? 

I have had these moments before.  Moments of a big question, followed by a moment of clarity.  Moments when my true Self, that best inner voice pops in to visit my everyday life,  my daily routine, checks in on me and says: What are you doing here?  Is this a good place to be?  Is this where we thought we would be?  i and I? self and Self?

Usually those moments came at a low point in my life, when my lifestyle had gone bad, or a relationship, or a job. Moments when I said “How did I get here?” and then decided I should probably get myself the hell out of there.

So, I find myself driving with the Talking Heads’ song in my mind. ”And you may ask yourself, well, how did I get here?”    But this time, it wasn’t brought on by anything negative. It was really a very good feeling that sparked it.  A place of peace, a moment of  Wow! this is pretty cool.  Look at me! A happy grown-up person, on my way to teach yoga at 6am…but how exactly, did I end up here?

And David Byrne explains it all to me.  I got here by “letting the days go by”.  Simply a matter of time passing by, like the water flowing.   It flows in me.  I am, after all, a body of water. My skin is the shore and the ocean floor. The water moves through me in waves, ebbing and receding.  It evaporates, replenishes, moves, and changes.  From moment to moment, it is never exactly the same. But it is always there, making up most of me.

My yoga practice teaches me to be more fluid, to go with the flow of the world outside of me and the moving waters inside me.  I have been having these moments of liquid clarity more and more lately.  On my mat and off.  Moments where I feel pure peace, content to be certain of everything and nothing at the same time.

I am sure I will have another moment like this tomorrow.  I will be sitting in an auditorium, watching my daughter as she graduates from elementary school.  All of the moments of my life and hers flowing through my mind. When she leaves the stage, walks up the aisle and passes me by, I will wipe away the water that has spilled onto my cheeks, and smile at her beautiful face.

With my tear filled tissue in hand, I will know that everything from that moment on will be different.  And everything will be the same as it ever was.