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ever dumbening
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"Thoughts _are_ when they are ripe," I once told her, as we sat in our dusty cement Beijing apartment. So then so many years later, after so many contractions and expansions of my heart and mind and body (and intention), I sat again in a yoga class.
I think that I only went to two or maybe three classes total before today, and the most recent was over ten years ago. I told that to the teacher today before class, in an inquisitive declarative way telling her I'd try this level and then see. I told her that I had dated a yogi who was in a teacher training program, and that that was the foundation of whatever scattered practice I might have.
Several chest openers to start, quite appropriate. "Elevate your heart to the center of the room."
Midway through the class, as my chest and shoulders spread wide over the edge of the chair, as my head hung towards the ground, she said, "You're a natural; you had a good teacher." I'm not sure it's possible to have happiness and sadness more intimately intertwined in a moment than I had as she said, "You had a good teacher." A gift is clearly what those years had been. That teacher and I are now on separate paths, but the gift and guidance remain. And finally it was I that walked from my new home in San Francisco to stand and sit and bend and stretch, and to watch and listen to my mind, to my body.
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