
Namaste.
“I bow to you.”
How great would this old world be, how empathetic its people, if we all took a moment to bow toward each other and acknowledge the lifeforce within.
Breathe deeply.
Heart centered.
Namaste.
“I get it.”
I’m no yogi. In fact, I’m sure I haven’t touched my toes with an unbent knee in nearly half a century. I wobble, my muscles shake and I often blurt, “What did she say?”
My butterfly is more of a chrysalis.
Still, I love the outdoor yoga classes offered throughout our city this summer.
I stand proudly in a sapling version of the tree pose, breathing in the happy sound of children playing, breathing out the day’s stress.
Around me stretches a chorus of hundreds — strangers, friends, children, instructors.
Namaste.
I have no idea what I’m doing. Turn where? Point what?
Downward dog.
Breath in.
Stretch.
Thank you, mother earth, for holding me up.
Beautiful world.
Beautiful people.
Namaste.





One thought on “Namaste”