Last night wrapped me in metaphor.
It was unmistakable. Obvious. Handed to me as a gift. And I can't repay The Giver with anything but these words.
I sat cross-legged, spine tall. I felt the expanse of my inhales and listened to the soft hiss of each complementary exhale. The yoga studio was dim and warm. But the walls creaked. Branches whipped outside the windows. The wind roared around the corners and sought chinks in the foundation through which to sneak.
It was a wind storm unlike any other. It peeled part of the roof off a nearby mall. It downed trees. It left some folks in the dark. It set records.
But I was still. Silent. Centered. Protected against external chaos by a cocoon of calm.
Namaste.
I rolled the sensations of this experience into my yoga mat and took them home. To unwrap today. And tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
