This morning, I became *one* with the universe. My bright white light traveled beyond the moon and the sun to the edges of the universe and just sat there quietly, being rejuvenated before returning to fill every muscle and cell of my body with renewed energy.
I’d never been to Yoga before, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. My hamstrings may have protested a little as I tried to touch my forehead to my knees, and my broken toes may have screamed a bit as they tried to balance the weight of the tree pose. But, by the end of the hour, as I laid there, flat on my back in some kind of sanskrit-named pose, I found myself wishing for another hour.
Let me make myself VERY clear. Never in the existence of my being have I wished for another hour of exercise at the end of a workout. Not ever. (The fact that I was the youngest participant–by several decades–is irrelevant, as far as I am concerned. The fact that it would be virtually impossible to ever break a sweat in this Yoga class is lovely.)
This experience only begs one question. How have I not already discovered Yoga? And is there more exercise that is this easy? Or, dare I say … enjoyable? (OK, maybe that’s three questions, but it’s a domino effect.) I mean … I might actually be able to maximize my health and minimize my stress at the same time if I could really find a form of physical activity that I did not disdain from the depths of my soul.