For a while now, I've been missing my yoga routine. I just couldn't seem to keep it up over the winter. Couldn't motivate myself to push aside the furniture, sweep the floor, and unroll the mat. Lately, as I've been thinking about getting back on the mat, I've found myself instead lacing up my shoes and heading outside for a long walk. Those walks helped me get moving again, each step connecting me with the earth beneath my feet. And while I was grounded by the firmness and support of the earth, my spirit was buoyed by the emergence of Spring all around me. I gathered energy.
The other night, I was keeping Ryan company in the kitchen while he fixed dinner. As we chatted, I pulled myself into tree pose and stretched towards the ceiling. I left the kitchen, and tried standing bow pulling pose. Clearly, the time for yoga has come. Today, I moved the furniture, swept the floor, and unrolled the mat. These actions that seemed like obstacles all winter now seemed like a welcome ritual.
I felt like a flower bulb who had laid dormant under the soil through the winter. With all of that energy I'd been storing, I unfolded and stretched. As a half hour drew to a close, I lay on my mat and listened to my breath, felt the energy now pulsing through my limbs, and inhaled the scent of the cinnamon in my oatmeal which waited for me in the kitchen. I'm ready for this new/old morning ritual.