It appears as if nothing is going on and therefore not as impressive to the outside world as inversions like a hand stand; but the move from without to within is a highway to the heart, the compass for every decision, and the sacred center of every temple.
We’ve been on Earth for a while, both corporately and individually, and we know falling and rising. Aware of failure and success in life, in teaching, and in yoga, we listen when a guide addresses us with the courage to be.
Following my guide, I give myself to the moment and find my lifting gaze opens a new potential both fierce and divine. I lift my spine from behind my head and imagine never moving.
The crown of my head rises up and into an unseen sacred net of prana. I stand rooted as if I am a monument. I follow for several near-transcendent seconds where I become a living, breathing stone. Then I exhale to feel my shoulders slump setting myself at ease.
I go back with heightened awareness to calm breath. I stop traveling and arrive where my teacher’s soft words land in my ear. Her question is not judgment. It teaches awareness, “Where is your breath?” She says, “Let it go, it’s in the past.” In that yoga moment, I’m a thirsty man who’s been given water. It was all I asked of the day.
Yoga’s soul work deserves command and care; its lessons have been won by the Centuries and are layered in principles unique and universal. Yoga takes form in us, as it did in them, and in its best form teaches internal integrity yoked to external consistency.
On this long yoga journey, faith and breath is necessary. Maybe like me, often a doubting and thirsty man, your days have registered heavy on your body and your spirit is tired. Maybe today, you don’t want to do what life asks of you. But maybe today you and I hear yoga in words that flow like water from a clear blue mountain spring.
Beside you, a thirsty man, I dip my cup into the clear, raise a glass and drink. Would you like some?