You breathe in fresh, dry air like a sponge breathes in water. You let sunshine flood every dark corner of your lungs, drawing in little particles of dust and life and renewal. Your fingers bend into the earth, palms expanding under the weight of your body. Your heels sink down, asking the back of your legs to lengthen and stretch with every deep, slow breath. Your toes lift up, like your belly button pressing against your spine. The upward lift connects to the downward root and you are both things at once - rooted and lifting, grounded and soaring.
This is what growth looks like. All growing things have their roots tangled into the earth as they reach towards sunlight.
Just one thought of your inner thighs opening towards the sky and your body responds. Your hips lift and your heart melts towards the earth. Your breath is your victory, creating space you didn't know was possible. You sway into those new spaces, coaxing length and hope and revival from tired, resistant muscles.
As your hips lift, the weight of the past falls away. Your shoulders pull together on the back of your body and your heart whispers, "okay". Shaking what rested in those dark corners to the ground, you feel weightless and open. You are strong here, in ways you didn't know you could be. You are renewed here and that lets hope build up like sand in a jar, settling down until you are packed full of life.
It's not hard to imagine meeting healing here, in this place that brings all of you into one single pose. Your heart links to your spirit and your spirit brushes against your body. Your mind settles into the rhythm of your breath - that breath of victory. You know victory, don't you? You who have walked very long and cold roads. You who have wandered and practiced acceptance in dark ruts and grooves. You who places palms and heels to the dirt in a glorious attempt to worship.
When you let your gaze fall do you see Love's words? The ones that reclaimed you; that left ugly, sharp words hanging on the lips of your accusers; that caused thick and jagged stones to fall in a pool of dust before they ever touched your fragile body? Those words. The words that asked you to leave the old thing in the old place and join the sunshine on new ground? Oh those words, sweet friend. Those are your words. New words and a new life and a new, beating, living heart inside your reclaimed chest.
In your new practice, in your new life, you can breathe in fresh air and redemption. When you come to your mat and root your hands and feet into your own reclaimed land, open your heart and your lungs. Hold that new breath for just a moment and rejoice in the sensation of being full enough to burst. Hold your exhale long enough to remind yourself that, in seasons of being empty, another inhale is on its way.
What are those words? The ones just for you?