Returning

The sun is shining through large windows in a clubhouse gym, in a housing development where my niece and her significant other live. It is quiet. Just me and one other woman. She has earphones in and is working out to a mirror that is hooked up to a virtual workout. Every once in a while she blurts out to our quiet atmosphere, “Oh my LORD,” or adds a grunt here and there. While I’m on a gym-yoga mat with various silhouettes of yoga poses on it, I hear her breathing get heavier and weights being placed on the ground. Even with these noises, it is peaceful and comfortable on my mat. My mat has become my world as I sink deeper into each pose.

My mind has settled and gently slides into no thought to one thought and out of thought to no thought. To noticing my face can be softer so I loosen my facial muscles. To noticing my hand placement and wonder, “Is there a less stiff way to balance my weight on the insides of my fingers and palms?” And of course, there is. And so my body redistributes the weight. Ahhh. That’s better.

It’s been a minute since yoga has been a regular part of my life. I’m reminded of two things as my body is remembering yoga.

A piece of music I recently revisited called “Returning.” It is from my early yoga teaching days. Beautiful music. It plays in the background in my mind. It feels like a familiar scent that has wafted into my mind. Like freshly baked cookies from childhood. And a poem by T.S. Elliot.

“We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.”

I found that part of the poem way back in college on my own. Not for any assignment. I was in the library and came upon a book of poetry. And just found it. The philosophical meaning of it so moved me. Up until this moment, poetry never moved me. When my class was preparing for graduation, I asked if I could make a banner with this quote, and have it be part of the ceremony. Some power-that-be granted me that and it was in our graduation procession.

These two “returning” type notions are part of my history. This is what I am feeling as I sit crossed-legged on my mat, feeling my body glide, inhaling my back into an arc, face to the sun, and cascading into an exhale, rounding my shoulders and curling my torso inward.

I am returning to movement I love. Finding particular transitions I used to love. Used to love to share as a yoga teacher.

I am so far removed from my teaching days. Years and years removed. I don’t see myself returning there. But I have returned to the love I know in my bones of this kind of way to be in and with my body, mind, and soul.

Feels good.