Am I Crazy? Wait, Don't Answer That...

Last Friday I participated in my first hot yoga class and I never thought I was the type to try an exercise class quite this adventurous. But oh-my-god, it was seriously the best workout I've ever had. EVER. Even better than that time I stretched my arms waaaay up to reach the half-hidden bag of chocolate chips on the top shelf in the kitchen, which I then dumped over the large dish of vanilla ice cream covered in syrup and wheat germ, because, hey, I know how important it is to elongate my muscles before I eat healthy, and let me tell you, that wheat germ is great stuff.

Last night was the regular vinyasa yoga class and I think I may have finally found it...you know, that exercise that makes you feel really good about yourself, really happy and centered and at peace. Yoga is a great workout and towards the end of class, we lay prone on the floor, the lights are dimmed, singing or chanting music is played softly in the background, we are focused on our breathing, focused on inside....and it happened.

Last night's music was all about connecting with mother: our own mothers, us as mothers, mother earth and feeling love and forgiveness and bountiful-ness of mother. I don't know exactly how it happened but I felt hot tears sliding out my eyes, dropping into my hair. My eyes were shut, and yet I could see myself, could see my children and I was hugging them, holding them, kissing them, giving my love to them directly from my heart to theirs. And then, I saw me. Me as a child. About 7 years old and while a part of my brain was thinking, "wait, what's going on? This can't be happening..." it WAS. My children were standing on either side of me and my arms were outstretched to include 7 year old Shelley and I couldn't stop crying and hugging her. Hugging me. And saying over and over again, "Shh, it's okay. It's okay. You're going to be okay. It's going to be alright." And then a moment later, she was slipping away from me and I could feel that there was so much more I needed to tell her. So much longer I needed to hold her.

Even writing this now, I can feel how powerful that moment was for me, and yet, the cynical part of me wants to believe that it was just a trick of my mind, that yep, I must be a little bit crazy.

So I wonder. If something happens and you're the only that sees it, did it really happen?