I have been a little obsessed with the microcosm lately. The specific details of the leaves, flowers and blades of grass; the details of anatomy and anatomical alignment; the way in which our bodies transition into and out of positions during movement.  I am fascinated by the many details that we usually miss in our rush to tick things off of our lists or to get somewhere, without looking up, down, sideways or around. It may sound a little odd, but I could spend an hour watching a spider make its web or an ant crawl up a branch, or even a drop of dew make it's way from the moss to the forest floor.  "These are a few of my favorite things..." At one of the studios I teach (The Bhaktishop), we are focusing on transitions this month.  Physical, emotional, mental, seasonal, etc.  I think every teacher is interpreting this differently, and I love that!  I have been paying special attention to the ways in which we get from one posture to another and how our breath helps motivate that transition and vice versa. I have been playing with slow, deliberate transitions, which are often very tricky and take a lot more muscular energy and endurance; as well as quick, "how did I end up in this shape?" transitions, which can be challenging for the balance and stability. I am enjoying this so much, it may continue well past this month!  :)

Something else I have noticed is our modern society's tendency to declare boredom.  Often it is when one's favorite TV show has had its season finale, one's spouse is away, or the activity that usually occupies a person has ceased to be for a period of time. This confounds me, as if we are really paying attention, how is it even possible to be bored?  There are books to read, trails to hike, people to observe, classes to take, food to savor, art to enjoy (or criticize, if you like), and seeds to plant. Not to mention meditation, mantra, self-study and physical asana to explore. We could blame the media for our attention spans, but don't we all have the choice everyday to choose how we spend our 24 hours?  As Edwin Bryant said in a recent workshop, "Everyone gets 24 hours a day.  How do you choose to spend yours?"

The details often get lost. Responsibility, work, children, stress throw us into a tailspin of focusing on the big (or not so big) aspects of modern living. How can we bring back the awe of childhood? I know adults with children who reconnect to this when their toddler stops to look at the moon, the hummingbird, the fallen leaf on the sidewalk. Why does it often take a challenge, a child or a grandparent to bring us back to the beauty that surrounds us?

Where do you notice the details in your life? Do they enhance or detract from your experience? How do transitions play a part in your life? What do you choose to do in your 24 hours?