For the past couple of weeks, I've been walking by an apartment with a cardboard sign in the front window, with the words "infinite possibilities" stenciled on it in black formal script. Today on my way home from yoga, I finally noticed a "for rent" sign attached to the balcony to the left of it, but for these past weeks I kept thinking that someone was sending all of us a daily reminder.
I am recurrently reminded that we only see infinite possibilities in moments between flurries of motion. I am reminded that these possibilities, in fact, only seem to exist in the spaces we open up for them. I paused between breaths and poses today, recognizing that the volume level on the chatter in my mind has been turned up high for the past few days, and that if I didn't mute it, or at least quiet it, I would not be able to open spaces for anything, let alone possibilities. And so I do. I exhale, I move intentionally, and I quiet. And I repeat the process when the chatter re-enters, as it always does.
Two children were attempting to walk a slack line in the park today as I passed by. One child said to the young gentleman who had set it up, "Is this impossible?" And he said, "No, it just takes practice." And I thought, "I'm pretty sure that's true for everything that seems impossible."