The magic of the holidays captured me. David and I walked the dogs, Mr. Bear and Ms. Madeleine. David turned back for home at one point and I continued onward to the solitude of the river with the dogs. I wanted to contact nature so instead of looking across the river at the two houses right near the bank upstream I looked instead to the other bank towards a grove of full grown hardwoods near an eddy in the river. I looked towards the natural order, to briefly leave the world of humanity behind. Bare nature speaks to me, it touches me deeply inside and stills my chattering mind. The ageless quality of water and trees connects me to something bigger than my life.
Then once home I had a quiet, chest opening yoga practice that put me in contact with the fluidity of the spine. I opened like a tree bending with the wind. In setubundha, with feet on the wooden block at the wall, legs strapped together above the knees, and sacrum supported with a second wooden block, the arms turned outwards and the hands gripped the sides of the yoga mat. The block offered support and I rested amicably in this arched position, such a deep rest I really felt like this was my body’s normal posture. I rested, breathing evenly, as if in a deep sleep, with only a minimal effort used to stay in place. Removing the blocks and coming down, the upper spine curved even more deeply as I let the hips and sacrum lead the movement, and then like a tree that finally returned to its normal posture after a brief wind storm, I returned to the mat completely. At peace.
Merry Christmas.
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