Sanctuary

I’ve been finding excuses lately. Ever notice how excuses are really easy to find? I got back to the mat this morning. Spent time out of time in the upstairs gallery where it was dusky and quiet on the padded carpet. No mat, really, and I was wearing jeans and shoes. Took off my glasses and my necklace and breathed for awhile, then engaged my inner eye as I went through a random sequence of simple poses. I ended up with this thought: My own body is all the sanctuary I need. There is such power in self-awareness. The recipe for peace is so simple, yet so hard to pay attention to. I need to grant to myself the same kindness I enable in others.

It’s odd practicing yoga after you start teaching it. There are two of you on the mat, one of them taking note of how you would lead a class through your practice, while the other is internally focused. It’s not an entirely happy partnership, but one I can accommodate because I am confident that the two will, given time and attention, integrate.

Robert, my yoga-resistant husband, has been walking along the Catawba river many mornings on the Riverwalk in Rock Hill. This is a particularly wonderful time of year to walk, when late autumn’s perpetual afternoon light shines through the bright remnant leaves even in the morning. I joined him Saturday. He loves his walk, although he remains disappointed that he has yet to see a train on the trestle at the end of the path. I see his whole demeanor improving, his energy increasing, his balance getting better, simply from a stroll in the woods. Unlike me, he treasures each encounter with the people and dogs he meets along the way, making connections and  spreading the gentle joy that is his life’s mission. We are so yin and yang, so inward and outward, so well balanced.