The calm,
Cool face of the river
Asked me for a kiss.
From now on, I’m going to try to repeat this haiku like a mantra during shavasana, during those last five or ten minutes of a yoga class when we all lie on our mats in silence, trying to quiet our thinking minds. Those five minutes are harder for me than eagle pose and shoulder-stand combined, if such a thing were possible.
At the end of class yesterday, Katherine came around the room and gave each of our feet a little massage. As she did, I thought (my thinking mind was still on) of the scene in The Little Mermaid when Scuttle lifts shipwrecked-Eric’s foot to his feathered head to listen for a pulse and declares that there is none.
Maybe our hearts really are in our feet—only someone we really trust is allowed to touch them, or would even bother. Maybe believing we walk around on our hearts all day makes about as much sense as anything else.
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