Sanctuary

Words cannot describe the experience I had last night at my first yoga class in over 12 years. But I'm going to try...

To start with, who knew that an old chicken coop could be turned into such a beautiful and peaceful studio? (It even contains a bathroom which I was happy to have an inaugural pee in because I cannot go anywhere in public without finding out first and foremost the location of such facilities.) Honey-colored floors and soft lighting, a lovely bronze gong hanging on the wall, a few lit candles, and the pleasing scent of burning incense, not overpowering in the least, just...soothing.

There were 11 women in the class and each of us laid out our yoga mats; blocks and cushions were pulled close and there was chattering among them before the class began. I sat at the back of the room wondering if I'd be able to quiet my mind from a constant stream of internal dialogue and also worrying about gurgling noises coming out of my stomach, or worse, a fart escaping. BECAUSE THESE THINGS HAPPEN.

The moment arrived with the gentle and comforting bonnnnngggg of the gong. Our instructor, Judith, mentioned that it was perfectly acceptable to smile during the next hour and a half. That we shouldn't worry about holding any one position, that the most important thing to remember was focusing on our breathing.

Goosebumps appeared on my arms and tears filled my eyes as the sound of OMMMMMMMMM was intoned through 12 pairs of lips. We did this with a specific breathing exercise and it was truly one of the most exquisite, stunning songs I've ever heard.

Several sun salutations, warrior stances and goddess poses later, I felt lighter, stronger, and happier within than I have in a very long time. Taking this time for me was, and is, invaluable and I felt much more peaceful this morning. Next week's class can't come soon enough.

Namaste.