I am in my head a lot. I’m wired that way. On the enneagram, I am an intellectual type. That makes sense to me. (I write, therefore I am...) I think one reason yoga has always felt like such a life raft to me is that it saves me from myself.

Returning to the mat, I let the asanas take the lead. Without a program or plan, I simply nudge my body into this or that gentle stretch. Conscious of my breath’s response to increased sensation, I patiently watch, listen, wait for my next shift to present itself. I let all parts of me be heard, felt, acknowledged.

Ofttimes it happens instantaneously; that sense of wholeness, completeness and balance returns and I am fully alive again. Once that happens, it is easy to stay in the flow of the practice for... well, since I’ve just stepped out of time, there’s no telling how long I’ll be there. Whatever the actual time-measurement, it’ll be “just right”.

With a regular practice it gets easier to tell when there is an imbalance. Like a delicate scale that tips with the slightest addition or subtraction, distraction or neglect, my body, mind, and spirit all want to be balanced for optimum life experience. When they are out of sync, it feels like I’m in a cloud, or like life is racing by and I’m missing it, or like there is something wrong with the life around and in me.

Returning to the mat, is returning to the heart, to the spirit, to the beauty and truth and wholeness of life. Returning to my practices is merely a stepping across the threshold, back to my Self.