Mood Morph

Rainy day, gray skies, low mood, laundry, email.  5:00 pm, almost pitch dark outside.  I light four candles, arrange them around my yoga mat.  Sit on my heels.  Wait.  Listen.  Wait.  Listen.  Hear something unspoken: Twist this way, put your right hand on the floor, lean to the left.  This shifts the whole universe.  Something bright flows up my spine, I sigh in relief.

Many more things are possible now, and the guidance comes clearly.  Dog pose, spinal roll-up, standing backbend.  How did I forget how delicious this is, and how fluid?  I follow something that clearly leads, now leg goes back, spine turns up, heart beats faster, the rust moves OUT, the light moves IN, I am danced.

A half hour ago the smallest thing seemed monumental, now I kick up into handstand, stay for an easy minute, float down, some kind of magic taking place in the heat and groove of movement, my spine glows, my heart prances, my muscles twinkle, my mind sings.  A woman, a mat, a rainy Seattle afternoon equals alchemy.  Now I float and float and float in plank pose, collapse on my belly, pant.  Happy.  Transformed.

Savasana.  It's raining hard, the dog is breathing softly, candles cast a gold circle of warm light.  I rise from practice, reorganized, redone, renewed.  Put my hands together, as I always do after a practice: this life ephemeral I clearly know.  For now, I touch my forehead to the floor, and say, "Thank you for this body.  I am grateful to be able to practice today."