How we need to contort our bodies just so to allow for us not to be blinded by its un-adulterated splendor.
I remember from years ago, the Founder of the studio where I taught yoga would sometimes get teary-eyed over the beauty of things that seemed inane to me at the time. One day I must have mocked him as he swiftly confronted my flippant-ness with, “Don’t you dare make fun of me. When you look at things with an open heart your heart will break someday too.”
When I was seven I remember my heart to be open. Heading back to my seat after making my first communion in a white veiled dress with a sash tied around my middle. Waving to all the families in their seats as they watched each of us go by. I felt that not only was I special but they were too just by their presence sharing in my experience. I now recall their awkward smiles and tentative waves back to me. I was in a state of openhearted glow not yet dampened down by life’s happenings. Somewhere and somehow my heart started to take cover and my body to protect and I too learned how to contort so that I was able to take things in safely.
But, one heartfelt moment at a time I am starting to once again turn and look full on and stare directly at all that life has to offer before it starts to fade away.
Our teacher did play Santana, but not this song.