Sometimes the practice--in meditation, in yoga--of calling forth an intention to carry one through the day is easy, organic. But, like everything else in this experience of existence, there is no such thing as a universal fit. For me, bringing forward an intention is too limiting. I think the problem is putting it into words--ironic for a writer? Maybe not. Maybe writers understand all too well the limitations of language.
And, yes, the intention could be more of a feeling, a space one wants to enter as the day progresses, but even that, for some of us, can seem like an impossible wish list. Instead, I've begun to ignore the intention bit, the wish list bit, focusing instead on the sound, the tone of this body in this moment.
That's weird, I know. To explain: I love listening to choral music, and one of the most peaceful, soothing, stunning phenomena I can cultivate is that easy clarity of tone achieved in certain pieces of music. Just one note, just one resonance, one voice. I can recall that sound, how it feels and embody it, drawing down its simplicity and ease, and just like the right vibration can still waters that are out of control, this thought draws down my frequency, calms me into an ease and freedom that, if put onto the wish list, would have felt all too limiting or, conversely, like too high a standard I'd feel pressured to meet, inevitably failing to achieve.
But clarity? No limits, no demands--only clean, clear resonance.