Family Updates + yoga


Today is Day Five of Creativity Boot Camp
The prompt: Grow

June 10, 2010 005

Weeks ago I rushed from a yoga class to my car, sweat still dripping, cotton yoga pants clinging to every inch of my legs. I threw my mat and water bottle on the passenger seat and dug through cereal bar wrappers and used tissues in the console to find a scarp of usable paper and a fading pen. Bits of encouragement and inspiration lingered in my head from my yoga teacher, and I didn't want to lose them.

The Saturday morning Bikram {hot} yoga class is my favorite. You step into the studio and the heat greets you as an intimate embrace. Constant, moving around you, hugging and holding you through poses and postures. The teacher is gentle, and encourages us to be kind to ourselves, and to honor whatever arises through our practice. She laughs as she says the hard part is over, as long as you've arrived on your mat, you are in motion. Practicing.

I have two friends who join me. One introduced me to the class, and I treasure the classes we spend together. Now and then I watch her as she moves, she takes the instructors advice and is kind to herself. She moves gracefully through her postures, with her postures, honoring her body. The other friend is dangerous to go with... she makes me giggle and laugh when we hear the words "feel free to moan and groan... " as we catch each others eye. But still, we both appreciate the warm room, the stretches, the ability to be in a space where there is nothing to be ashamed of. It's us, our bodies, and our minds. Sinking in, finding the space to expand within and breathe.

There are other classes that I've tried during the week. The Monday night Vinyasa where the hip childless folk gather before cleaning up and heading out for tapas. The Tuesday night Bikram class, where I inevitably get stuck in a spot close to the middle aged businessman who is a heavy breather and actually does moan and groan for the entire ninety minutes. But Saturday is still my favorite. There's a therapeutic sense about it, more so than the others.

I take my Saturday teachers words with me through the week, jotted down quickly with sweaty fingers. They're reminders to see how much you can let go of unnecessary places you hold onto. Reminders to have gratitude for who you are, as you are. Reminders to have no expectations. Reminders to stand tall and grow your tree.

So when I can, I grow my tree. In the middle of train tracks and building blocks, I grow my tree. While my children watch Toy Story 2 for the umpteenth time, I grow my tree. When my body says yes and my mind is the one that needs nudging, I grow my tree. Because in growing my tree, I am being kind to myself. Giving myself time to be me, to look inward and to enjoy what I see. In growing my tree, my mind expands, my body lengthens, fingers reach and I am planing my roots and opening my leaves. Accepting. Loving. Embracing. Growing.

**if it needed any explanation, the above photo is me in my favorite version of a tree pose.

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Grow + yoga