If love is the unnameable encompassing which allows opposites to co-exist and mutual others to be aware of their sameness, then love is what I seek, and love is what I find.
My life is held taught by opposites, and the truth is that it’s begun to wear me out. But the other truth is that as grinding as the underbelly can be, as crude as suffering can make us, I still feel priviledged to have a part in events that I would have referred to when I was a philosopher as “liminal.” Birth, death, fear and real grappling.
So, yoga is union, resolution of opposites. Perhaps I’m just where I need to be. In the midst of intense effort I find remarkable peace. By hugging muscles in, I can find freedom of expression. In suffering, I can find witness.
My yoga practice is fed by the mat and the cushion, but it really does expand to include all of me. Today, I’ll put the uniform back on and take the calls, whatever they might be. And I’ll witness the moments wash along. And I’ll return to the mat, to another DownDog, another Handstand, another Warrior flow. Another breath. Another embrace.
Yoga is love, truth, beauty: here, now. Sometimes to become conscious of that I have to fall out of realizing it, of feeling it, so the synthesis can happen all over again for me, for my awareness.
Here I go, leaping off into the arms of love…