I have written a poem. Be afraid…very afraid.
The trickle of air, no matter how faint, that weaves its way through the nares and caresses every fold and crevice as it flows through the throat and branches through the increasingly small bronchioles of the lungs.
It is the grace that this oxygen reaches the tiny alveolar sacs and can be absorbed by the body and distributed to every living cell in it to create usable energy in order to form our physical existence.
It is the rising of the chest and the expanding of the lungs that massages the heart and reminds us that, even in times of brokenness, to be able to feel love and to love is enough.
It is the freeing of the heart to love, the freeing of the spirit to experience the truth of being, which is bliss.
It is the freeing of the soul to know God, the freeing of the mind from judgment into love, and it is the freeing of the body from its shackles of distraction.
Yoga is strength in fear, beauty in brokenness, peace in anger, fearlessness in the face of death, freedom from misperception and from suffering.
Yoga is our ticket to the bliss that is our birthright in every moment.
Yoga is realizing all these ideals, failing to measure up to any of them, and still being willing to try again in the morning.
Yoga is a process.