Sweaty shoulders and a dusky room. The day has been quiet, and its stillness melts into the evening.
My fingers spread wide on the mat, palms pressing down. I close my eyes. My spine lengthens and with each breath something opens and something softens. Something melts away.
There are a few things in this world that make me feel connected, that help me understand, that lead me home. Yoga is one of those things.
The warmth of the room loosens me and I can breathe easier. For the first time today, I notice the air coming in and out of my lungs. It’s an easy cycle, going down into my belly and filling it like a comforting meal.
As the flow picks up, my arms and legs get slicker. A few beads of sweat drip into my eyes and I blink them quickly away. Breath is heavier, faster, still deep.
It’s usually at this point in class where I slip out of presence.
What’s next? How much longer?
Tonight’s plans. A whimsical day dream. A hurtful memory. An anxiety-inducing “what-if.”
And it’s usually at this point where a word comes. Sometimes a few, but usually just one. It floats before my eyes, then syncs with my breath. It intertwines with my movements and settles in my chest.
Tonight, the word is trust. I don’t expect it, but I understand why it came. It’s not the first time it has appeared.
If you know yourself, love yourself, and stay aligned to what feels right, you can trust that life will take you where you’re meant to go.
As we collectively lay in savasana, digesting our practice, learning to be with ourselves, our teacher reads us a passage from the Upanishads:
“You are what your deepest desire is.
As your desire is, so is your intention.
As your intention is, so is your will.
As your will is, so is your deed.
As your deed is, so is your destiny.”
“Know yourself,” she says. “And trust your flow.”