Raw, adjective: 9. disagreeably damp and chilly, as the weather or air: a raw, foggy day at the beach.
Autumn's in the air here in SF, in spite of the teasingly weak sunshine that comes and goes in the late afternoon, and the cold foggy nights slither open into foggier-still mornings here on the downslope of Nob Hill.
Take four minutes to get out of your head and come back into your breath. Let your heavy feet make a home on the floor, place your open palms on the fronts of your thighs, sit up straight, lengthening the spine, and close your eyes. Alexi Murdoch - that beautiful creature, he - demonstrates this most simple of meditation asanas in the snapshot below.
Even better, turn yourself upside down for those four minutes, placing your head below your heart in Headstand (if you're craving a good energy surge via a revitalizing rush of blood to the head) or in Shoulderstand (if you're needing the yin calming effects that come from balancing the weight of your body on your shoulders). Close your eyes, feel gravity reverse, and use those fleeting few minutes as a sacred space for emptying your racing mind.
And just notice: what are you aware of this cool morning in late October? What's haunting you, filling your mind, stirring your heart? Can you watch it and witness it, not judging it, just letting it be what it is, and thinking to yourself, "Oh, isn't that interesting?" Isn't that interesting that I'm worried about this, or obsessively running over that, and can I maybe let it go, just for these four minutes, and let my head empty and my thoughts grow quiet and the breath just become still?
Music and meditation can so often become one and the same, when we let ourselves get lost in them. Lose yourself in Alexi Murdoch's big doe eyes and spare melancholy guitar, and let his gentle urging bring you back to your breath, reminding you of the simplicity and the marvel of just being alive in a breathing body on a Thursday morning in October.
And let it be enough.
Alexi Murdoch, "Breathe" (YouTube)