fall walk

It was delicious to grab a few minutes this afternoon to go for a walk with my dog. We trudged through the fallen leaves piling up on the road. We went crunch, crunch, all the way down the path by the school and back up and around the path looping the neighborhood. I love looking up at the trees preening their red, ocher, green and yellow leaves. The sun fell warmly around my shoulders like a shawl and I felt cared for as I went up the road and back. Cared for by nature.  Nature cooled my eyes, warmed my skin, and woke a joy in my heart. My dog shared this feeling, I am sure, for she pranced down the road with me, not a bit deterred by the leash.

feeling connected

This morning I entered the yoga class, spread my mat, and sat down, cross-legged. We were waiting for the teacher to arrive. Since the room was unlighted, we could not see each other and we were each doing our own thing, stretching, relaxing on our bellies or backs, or simply meditating. As I tuned into the people around me, I heard their soft whispers. The whispered conversations and soft laughter sounded like the chirps and tweets of birds. I felt connected to everyone around me: we were all in tune with each other, whether silent or chatting, as we waited to practice yoga together.
As we began our practice, we inhaled and exhaled together, the rhythms of our movements harmonized with our breaths, and finally our resounding "oms" were as vibrant as bells.

I experienced an epiphany: our joined motions and sounds made us one energy; our bodies that separated us were mere illusions. If we did not have skin and bone and tissue, and if we were only sound and breath, we would be seen as one not separate!

how some asanas make us look as graceful as dancers

This morning we did a pigeon pose that was a variation from the typical pigeon asana. From a sitting posture, we went into pigeon: I held my left ankle in the crook of my left elbow and drew my right hand all the way over my head and met the fingers of my left hand. I wish I had a camera to capture my pose, but although I don't have a photograph to prove that I looked as graceful as a Bharanatyam dancer, I certainly felt beautiful.  What's more, I could have stayed in that pose for a full two minutes longer!
It is wonderful when we feel like we are actually gliding through an asana and the transitions from one asana into the next. As when I went with ease through a series of balance poses: from a tree pose to warrior 3 and then on to hugging my knee (what asana is this?), all without losing my balance, before releasing into mountain pose.
We should probably call our yoga practice yoganatya or yogadance.

the art of walking slowly

As my husband is recuperating from surgery, he has to maintain a minimum level of exercise and so he walks around the neighborhood. I walk with him around the block. As he is in pain, he walks very slowly and I walk slowly with him. Ever since we began our slow amble, we have begun noticing the variety of shades of fall leaves on the ground, on the trees, on the lawns and bushes: mostly ocher and the nuances of it from light to dark. The entire neighborhood is orange themed: pumpkins carved to their ghoulish perfection, orange leaves strung around mailboxes and fastened over doors and windows, orange fall bushes, orange bags filled with raked leaves standing guard by driveways, waiting to be picked up at some point after the trick or treaters have disappeared into the fall gloom on Halloween night. Yesterday I stuck my tongue out and tasted the fresh coolness of the air-, the dampness of the impending rain on my skin, the aroma of ammonia just beginning in the wet sod.  Slow walks are great for exhaling and inhaling very slowly. The air was delicious as it touched my nostrils and the inhalations and exhalations made my muscles relaxed, my skin sing. Our perambulation finally stopped at our burgundy front door and we entered our home more in tune with our spirits than we had been before our walk.

Appreciating our Senses and Nature

Several yoga sessions earlier, Linda had mentioned at the end of the class to take a moment in nature and be present with all our senses. So this morning, during a walking meditation at Westmeadow Beach and enjoying the coolness of the weather, I decided to pay close attention to the air, itself, around me and make that my inspirational and sensual focus.

With minimal effort, I took in deep breaths and smelled the crispness in the autumn air. There was the faint scent of last night's rain mixed with the plants lining the road. The wind was mild this morning, yet I felt its cool presence caressing my skin. It felt delicious and it made me take even deeper and longer breaths. I tried tasting the salty air carried in from the ocean at the back of my throat, but I knew that was a bit of a reach.

The dangling tree limbs and branches would dance gently in the wind and I could almost visualize the twirling air movement flowing through them. The sounds of nature traveling in the air were a mixture of the waves peacefully thrashing against the shore, the cacophony of the seagulls above me, and the leaves rustling softly against each other. In the distance I could make out an animated conversation by fellow nature lovers approaching me.

My walk this morning had turned out to be more than just an exercise, it was a deeply sensual experience that connected me with nature.