A Poem: What Matters
Focus:
Yoga is my path, twenty-five years striving for full lotus. I can flatten my palms on the floor straight-legged and touch chin to shin. Down dog, plank, chatturanga, up dog, down dog, plank, chatturanga, up dog, a hundred times in one session.
And you know what? It doesn’t matter.
Nothing happened when I kicked up into headstand in the middle of the room for the very first time, legs straight, shoulders strong. No one cared.
Enlightenment didn’t arrive in a flash the moment I finally lifted into full backbend. “Let the breath lead,” the yogis teach, and so I did, followed it right to the Drop of Divinity within.
Now I meditate on the yoga of union, the union of yoga, and you know what? I was enlightened all along.
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