I spent the first hour and a half of the first day of year 36 on a mat. Not my own, but a rented red foam mat, in a very warm studio in Florida. Like the religious seek out a church for worship, I find a place to practice when I'm on vacation, a place to move and breathe, an anchor for my days and months and years. When I step on that mat, I know what to expect in a way, and that I won't leave the same as I entered.
An early bird to any new studio, I arrived with plenty of time to work out the kinks that arise when I spend time folded up like a paper clip in a car seat for hours on end. First I sat and took in the heat in the room, the way it pressed in against me, the space thick with dry warmth. Then I began to stretch and take up area, to press back against the atmosphere gently, with some hamstring work and then a supine twist to each side.
Twists are delicious poses, to be devoured and digested, and I love the feeling of my spine and ribs spiraling toward purpose. I thought to myself, as I often do, "Am I moving from my core?" So I felt with my free hand across my stomach cavity, to feel my muscles doing their work properly, then slid my fingers across my ribs to sense the skin stretching and twisting and exhaled to find more space in the posture.
And I wondered, as I looked at the darkness of my closed eyelids... Can I live my life for the next year, moving from my core?
Can I, for 365 days, move and live in such a way that is loyal to my innermost being?
Can I, for 365 days, trust the amazing power that lies within?
Can I, for 365 days, find joy in every moment?
Can I, for 365 days, lay aside 50% of my cynicism?
Can I, for 365 days, see my plans through? Can I flexibly deviate when needed?
Can I, for 365 days, move from my core?
This will be a year of choice. Choice for action. For courage and bravery. For chasing the horizon. For lovingkindness. Join me. Even when you're tired, when you've been folded up, can you find the space to love yourself, to move, to take a risk, to find more?
