Lessons From The Pavement

If you are not a runner, stick with me.  If you are, bear with me.

I'm on a blissful high this morning.  I just finished an outdoor run.  I ran with exhilaration.  I ran, my first time outside running in months, my slow foray back into the practice, the habit.

I ran without time, without distance - only with awareness.

I felt the messages from my yoga mat pouring through me...

Pay attention.  

Release the tension.

Focus only on here and now - and whatever you are doing, you can certainly do this for just here and now.  (Particularly valuable on long hills)

Breathe.  Ride your breath.

Connect.  Smile at the birds singing, drink in the wind instead of fighting it.

You are not the pain.  You are the awareness of the pain.

Smile with yourself.  Your body and spirit are rejoicing right now - let the mind come to the party.

I look at those lessons above and realize they can only be embodied as I experience them.  If I succumb to excuses (too cold, too much else to do), the lessons slip down the hands of the clock as they tick on and the moments are forever lost to me.

I don't really care if you are a runner.  Or if you consider yourself a yogini/yogi; flexible or stiff; old, out of shape, ugly or beautiful.  

I care if you are willing to look at yourself, in this exact moment, where you are, and to BE.  To be honest with yourself as to what you need, what you feel called to practice, how your breath is flowing...and why.

Find water (if even in a glass).  Find the earth (hint: look down).  Feel the air, pause by the warmth of a flame.  Reconnect to the basic components that sustain life, that offer you every second a chance to re-member who you are.

Breathe (Be).  Move (Do).  

Reconnect.  

Repeat.

And if you happen to want to go for a jog, shoot me an email - we'll cheer one another on. 

Namaste.