You’re supposed to set a new intention each time you practice yoga and mine never varies. I can’t help it.
I am always sincerely and profoundly grateful to be there.
When the teacher tells me to choose a word, I choose gratitude. When she asks me to complete the sentence “I am…” I think “lucky”.
I appreciate every single thing about the class –
- The way the room smells of lavender and other essential oils
- The heat that gently surrounds my old, achy body like a favorite, infrared blanket
- The Ujjayi breathing (had to look up that spelling) that connects me to….myself
- My purple mat that rolls out each time like a cheerful, loyal friend
- The solid hour my cellphone sits in my coat pocket, silenced and far, far away
- The way my creaky muscles slowly stretch a little further each time they move
- The balance I have not yet mastered but seek in each challenging pose
- The way I sweat out all the toxins in my body and in my life
- The encouraging voice of my talented instructor
- The fact that, in order to fully participate, I have to leave every person and situation I worry about outside the studio door and I can’t collect them until I leave
Last week, I watched fat snowflakes fall outside the windows as I waited for class to begin and I could not think of anywhere I’d rather be than right there, in that moment, on my mat.
Namaste.I thought about including a head stand photo of myself from yesterday’s class but I don’t have one because my cellphone was far, far away and, also, I can’t do a head stand. So, this is what you get. A nice, still shot of my favorite place to spend the longest, snowiest, polar vortexest winter I can recall.