In my first real yoga class, I was compelled to focus on complex postures called asanas and breath work or pranayama. My body delighted in the challenge and my spirit soared. The demanding physical practice slowed to pure breath as we relaxed in savasana, the corpse pose.
Lights were dimmed; candles aglow and jasmine incense filled my senses. My teacher’s lilting voice guided us to follow the breath, to move inward. In this silence, I glimpsed a deeper meaning, a peace, reminiscent of an earlier time. Pure bliss. In this quiet, I felt a mysterious connection to something beyond. In this place of surrender, I knew I had come home.
Years have passed and my journey has taken me miles from this place. I have studied with renowned teachers of many yoga traditions. I have learned that the gifts of yoga are infinite; the essence of yoga is timeless. Yoga is life. I am energized. Yoga graces me with strength, suppleness and balance. My mind stills, my fears calm and my spirit is transported to a magical time.

| View Poetry Entries

| Previous

dianes art of yoga © 2009 Design: