I’ve waited for these words
Like waiting to roll out my mat
And sink in to child’s pose
Planting my forehead firm against the earth
As if I’m returning to it, the earth, and my body after somehow having floated away
And filling my lungs for the first time deliberately with a breath that I can feel
That’s full
And intentional
As if to say, “I deserve this air.”
“I am worthy of breathing.”
“I am worthy of holding on, of being held on to…”
And of slowly letting go.
These words, like that breath, created in the moments that came before
Yet not knowing what they’d look like, feel like, sound like.
Not existing until I gave them purpose. Meaning.
Rooting me in the moment
Tethering me to reality
Preparing me to stand tall, to rise up and reach
To have my heart cracked open and, in savasana, be receptive to the possibility of peace.
But we can’t skip Act II, or the asanas that make the sweaty, messy middle in the practice of life.
We must live in acceptance of the moments of painful challenges
When all we have is our breath
And the breath of those surrounding us, supporting us,
Giving us permission to stay, and be present
Assuring us that we’ll keep breathing together… that we are all worthy of breathing.
There’s relief in the surrender.
The forward folding, again and again.
When we’re ready and when we think we’re not
When we’d like to stay in our power or be released from our struggle.
Surrendering to what is, making room for what could be, creating space for possibility.
Waiting. Breathing. Staying or leaving.
We aren’t in control. There is no arrival. Yet we are here.
In these words
In this breath
In each asana of life
Together.
Rooted in the earth – in all of the lessons of the practices that came before.
Lit by love – a love of forgiveness, grace, and gratitude that lives in our hearts.
The growth, the peace, and the life is in the surrender. In the mess. In the sweat.
I don’t know where I am, or where I’ll be, but I am here. And I am not alone.
Fide Et Cor 