We all have routines that we missed since the shut down. For some it is the gym. For some it is the dance studios. For others like me it is the yoga studio. Every Sunday morning at 6AM I would rise and prepare for our 7AM hot yoga class. It was my time; too early for church, too early for phone calls, too early for visits. For three months the studios have been closed. Occasionally I would practice at home, but it was not the same as fellowship with liked minded souls connecting to our inner source.
Sunday, our 7 AM yoga instructor and I met at a friends’ backyard. We all brought our own mats, blocks, and blankets and commenced backyard yoga. Our hostess provided music, cotton balls with grapefruit and lavender oils, and social distanced stations on an upper deck while she remained on a lower deck.
The experience was calming, restoring, and rewarding. First we talked as friends seeing each other for the first time after an international crisis. Then we talked as concerned black and brown women on the history of racial discrimination, advocacy and our hopes for change. We sat down on our mats and exhaled. We listened to the healing sounds of nature. We began our practice with the breath.; continued our normal yoga practice. The birds were noticeable, singing relentlessly in their own reality.
In the end we felt relieved, revived, and restored to some parts of our past, present, and future. Nature can change both our inside and outside worlds. This Sunday she did; she sang melodies to our hearts and souls.
