Pigeon Pose

Last night, I feverishly prepared dinner, laid backpacks and school uniforms out, swept the floor, and flew upstairs to wash my face, throw on a tank, locate my mat, and head out the door for a coveted yoga class.

I had been dreaming about the experience all day.

Praying that my body would melt into the poses and become one with the earth.  I wanted to hear language like, "Hello friends...plant your sit bones...root down...now, down dog...and, up into Warrior I....Namaste."

But it was in "Pigeon Pose," that I found my slice of Heaven.  My right IT band has been on fire, so consequently, I've been soliciting advice from everyone on how to heal it.  Once Thea, our instructor (which of course, her name is Thea...a fabulous yoggiish kind of name) situated us into this birdlike stretch...I was where I was meant to be.

Have you ever done this pose before?  If not, check it out.

Beyond the fact that Thea allowed each person to be where they were in the moment and for the practice, she spoke to us in a way that I needed to hear.  So, while my heart cooed in Pigeon, her language went something like:

"Breathe...always breathe, yogiis...Remember that yoga is about clearing away that which detracts, that which hinders us from embracing joy, wholeness, fullness, and complete gratitude.  There is no delayed gratification.  There are no goals.  There is no right.  There is no wrong.  Because yoga is both the means and the end."

And in that moment, I was sunk.  Sunk in the land of the pigeon and in the land of surrender of both body and mind.  And I was free.  Free of hip pain.  Free of inadequacy.  Free of fear.

Big lesson for an hour class.  So thankful for my body, for Thea, and for Pigeon pose.