Yoga Writer

Three days a week I teach yoga in the ballroom of a country club overlooking the Atlantic ocean. Once a year there is a fashion show in the ballroom so we take it outside. Today was that day.

Mats on the grass, uneven footing, a big range in ages, I taught a slow class, all on the ground, no up and down. I kept them on their backs, seated, hands & knees and bellies. There was plenty to do.

The sun was hot, but there was a gentle breeze. Blackbirds looked on from a nearby tree and a butterfly hovered around the octogenarian, pretty in pink.

This breath in. 
This breath out. 

Shivasana, final relaxation. On their foreheads I placed a dark cloth scented in lavender from France (a gift from a student). They pulled them over their faces, breathing it in, blocking the sun.

I release and I let go. 

Bringing them back I gently tapped the Tibetan singing bowl, (a gift from another student).

Glancing up from the bowl, my heart soared!

“Open your eyes and look up,” I said.

A flock of pelicans floated right over their heads in V formation.

Nine hours later,

I can still feel the sun on my face.

 

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