Where it's Always Sunday

Always Sunday is a place inside me that I go to when I am feeling alone. It is a place where I go to forget the suffering of life, a place where I release my worry and fear and surrender to the oneness of life. Always Sunday is my home within myself.

As a child I would lock myself in the bathroom for hours to write poetry or sit on my rooftop looking up into the blue sky and daydream about what possibly could be happening on the other side of the world. This was my first 'Always Sunday' moment and I didn't even know it. Not until my mother died from breast cancer and my entire world fell apart from the inside out, I felt the unexplainable had died inside of me. My mind wanted to break open from the intensity of thoughts and feelings that I wasn't accustomed to. But something in my soul would not let me go. I found myself immersed into my daydreams, creating and meditating on every detail just to 'get away' from it all and when I would write it seemed like the words would fall from my mind onto the page in a blink. This is what saved me! At that young age un-be-knowingly I had found my spiritual practice.

Since the weekends were my only opportunity to freely engage without schoolwork, Sunday quickly became my favorite day. The ritual of Sunday eased my anxious mind and brought the gnarling voices in my head to a whisper. It started with the sound of things being lightly disturbed, birds cooing, wind whistling through the crack of a window I left open the night before. And next there was the smell of fresh clothes and food being fried that would dance up my nose and push me out of bed. Church was my family’s Sunday tradition; I was greeted with perfume filled hugs and kisses that always left their mark. By the time I arrived back home from church service there were hours of daylight at my disposal. And this is where my very own Sunday ritual began. I would find a comfortable and cozy place somewhat hidden but in plain sight that felt oddly placed enough not to be found. I would sit quietly and think through my thoughts, daydream about life and write until I had no more blank pages in my diary. I felt comfortable, free of worry, without any judgment or fear, content and joyful, and pleased with myself and the purposefulness of the moment being achieved with such ease. Any moment that seemed to take me away from my peace, usually sad thoughts about my mother or anger at the confusion of life; I would steal away and create space to relive my Sunday ritual.   

And when I could not physically find a place to hide and be free I learned to close my eyes and transport my mind to this place. As time has gone on I stopped frequenting my Sunday ritual by allowing myself to get caught up in the illusions of adulthood. Until a recent visit to my grandmother’s house on a Tuesday afternoon; I was greeted by my niece  who led me to the backyard where her and my aunt where having a 'splash' battle in the jacuzzi hot tub, as my uncle barbecued some lunch on the grill and my Grammie (grandmother) sipped from a glass goblet with less than a quarter inch of Zinfandel wine while watching TV on the patio. Before I could blink I had cancelled all my plans and I was taking pictures from inside the jacuzzi and watching TV. I posted the picture on my Instagram and wrote, "Where it’s always Sunday" as the caption. I repeated the phrase to my grandmother who in a matter of fact tone replied, 'well it should be.' And something clicked, time stopped for a moment and I could remember the smell and the sounds that greeted me in the morning so many years ago, I could taste Sunday dinner crumbs on my bottom lip, my mother’s singing in the next room, my father’s whisper to wake me up. I was at home again.

 It has taken years and months to come all the way home to myself and I am still coming. No matter what storm is raging in my mind or how far away my heart feels from my soul, I know that I know that I know that I know there is a place inside of me where love was first born, where a forever amount of forgiveness lives, joy is not fleeting, laughter is the food of choice, while gratitude waters my soil and compassion is at the seat of my soul. This is my Always Sunday, my life ritual of presence, awareness and lasting happiness. May it be Always Sunday wherever you are.

Always Sunday