Today's offering from the Mat

The divine irony cascades over me as my hip gives a sudden almighty crunch in the most passive of poses. That in my youth, in my famed exuberance, I know such limits, such fragility, such bone aching fatigue. But I find myself laughing. It seems so comical, these extremes I dance between- arm balances with my legs behind my head, and crunching bones that rival my grandfather in their cacophony. To deny either is false.

And in the breath of Yoga, I find the place to hold both; in the steadiness of the rise and fall, inhale and exhale. In the space of yoga, my body knows both these things- freedom and strength, pain and fragility. It knows both, but is defined by neither. In both there is breath. There is space.

There is grace.

In both. Between both. Beyond both.

There is grace.


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