But crawling through the tunnel at "The Little House" was nothing to be alarmed about. It was such an extremely short, easy distance. And I had no choice: The front door to the house does not open so I had to be okay with being a little uncomfortable. It was perfectly unconventional. Somehow it all made sense.
After class, I drive to a greenway nearby and find a bench. I take a few deep breaths, then call my ex. Our conversation isn't necessarily any different than it has been in the past. And yet, everything seems different. I am grounded, calm, empowered, non-reactive. I am able to separate my "stuff" from his. This is new. This is HUGE!
Today's polished yoga centers and Bikram studios are only the latest incarnation of a tradition that has adapted to fit changing cultures for thousands of years. Nations have risen and fallen. Religions have come and gone. The apple of ideas has passed from Eve to Newton to Jobs. But yoga, in some form or another, has remained.
There is strength in vulnerability. And when we allow the guidance that comes through our hearts, there will be less drama in our relationships and an opening for the miraculous to be part of our daily lives in a way that is beyond our comprehension. Patience pays. Trust allows. Miracles are on their way.
Recently, I spent a marvelous week on vacation with my family (our eldest son was working out of the country, but the younger two, 25, and 22, were able to join my husband and me). The scene was an idyllic cabin beside a lake filled with bass, osprey soaring the skies, and golden sunsets. It would have been perfect, except for one thing: Worry. Somehow, it stalks me wherever I go.