It was a stiff morning, and though my body is still young-ish, it sometimes creaks. It seemed a good day for Yoga. Slow down. Center yourself. Invite peace. Offer peace.
The same CD always brings an instant calm—more than any of the other meditative CDs. Why is that? Was it the one that I used from the very early stages?
And so I begin with the poses that I’m familiar with and that my body yearns for. It’s a brief session; next time, perhaps longer. As I lay there, transitioning toward the end of my session, body face down, head to the side, fully relaxed, the music washes over me, the plucking of the sitar lulls my body deeper into relaxation, punctuated by the ting, ting, of the chimes, a deep breath exits my mouth. I feel all the muscles loosen—a deep calm permeates the tight muscles of my bodily container. I hear the rain outside through the bedroom window. It snuck in—wheels driving by on wet pavement turns to the swish of waterfalls.
I rise out of this pose slowly, carefully, in small stages. After a few more poses, my body decides that my next to last pose will be the warrior and my mind decides it will be for strength.
The last, how I always end, is to give thanks. Today, I turn to the North, East, South, and West, and bow with my hands in prayer, held close together, like angel wings surrounding a beating heart. I then kiss my palms and blow a kiss of love into our home and out into the universe.