Yoga

I should title this "Americanized Yoga", because I doubt that any of the yoga classes I have ever attended remotely go to the spiritual levels that true yoga implies. I mean, my teacher today doesn't even say namaste after class. Ever. She also doesn't do the thing with the bowl, making the cool chimey bell sound. She does close the class with savasana, which is my favorite part. Laying there on the mat, eyes closed, fully relaxed after 40 minutes of contortions, I think of briefly of the day before me, or behind me, then of nothing at all. I feel very still inside, not waiting for anything, just still. It is a quiet that does not come any other time, but at the end of yoga. Sometimes, during other classes, the instructor speaks of powerful things, in a soft voice, the words reaching deep into the soul. Once, after  placing myself in this position, the instructor told us to think of a safe place where we were warm and loved. For some reason, I thought of the chemo room at St. Elizabeth Cancer Care. Odd, I thought, but true. I felt safe there, they gave me warm blankets, I was loved by God. Today, there were no words, only soft music. Quietly still, no hurry, just peace.