The gift of silence.

Sunset Yoga

Sunset Yoga by Andrew Kalat. Shared under a Creative Commons license.

As we begin to fold and stretch ourselves into the positions, the rumble of the laughter and conversation next door is a welcome background noise. Slowly, so slowly that I don’t even notice, the people filter away until, suddenly, I am left with just the music from the CD player and my awkward downward-facing dog.

My favorite poses are almost impossible, my center of gravity off, my body weak where it was strong. Tales of thirteen-minute labor have pushed me to return to yoga this fall, but I feel large and ungraceful.

As the quiet grows, so does my confidence. I am tired, but I push and twist and reach, feeling the strength, wanting to be strong. At the end, rather than retreating into myself, focusing on my own mortality, I rub my stomach as he kicks. I have chosen to embrace the idea of creating new life, so I whisper promises in my mind about who he can be and what he can do.

And then I haul myself off the floor, roll up my mat and wait for next week, when I will once again embrace the gift of silence.

Linking up with Imperfect Prose.

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