This is a short essay I wrote for the online writing class I am taking. It’s about this yoga studio in the woods…
Photo credit: prakasayoga.com
It’s tucked deeply into the woods, so that you can hardly see it from the dirt road. Occasionally, when the angle of the sun is just right, you catch a reflection from a window and follow it down a narrow path beyond the trees to a ridged tin roof atop a weirdly-shaped squat structure: a rectangle in the front rear-guarded by what appears to be a slightly taller circular building with horizontal slit windows just below the roofline. It’s the strangest thing that you’ve ever seen, and you have to get a closer look. When you get near, you see that the building is stone, Romaine-lettuce-green and not circular at all. You pull the heavy oak door open and go in, take off your shoes and, through hinged narrow double doors, pass from the square anteroom into the sanctuary, stepping over a threshold made of Goshen stone bathed in white pebbles.
It has twelve corners and, hence, twelve sides. A glass cupola surrounded by a patch of yellow, and radiant heat floors of Italian cork invite you to lie down and look. You do. The rough walls are painted rich eggplant and the ceiling below the cupola is sky-blue with an occasional wispy cloud. It turns out that six tall slim windows, taking advantage of the Southern exposure, balance the small rectangular ones tucked into the Northern side you had noticed before. You lie in Shavasana and look up at the cupola as the clouds rush by, each one passing only once. You squint and close your eyes, the awakening spring sun boring right into your face now, your skin warm for the first time in months, and inhale deeply. Then you remember how once you were able to hear the rain – really hear it, without the need to name it first – harsh, loud, overwhelming, like a sob. And you wonder whether perhaps you might be able to hear, taste and smell the sun now if you could just wedge yourself into this moment, disconnected from your past and from your future.
Your eyes closed, you’re coasting on a light wave, becoming a quantum particle with its fields and entanglements. And you have to smile because life just doesn’t get any better than this. Your life, the one you’ve always had, that’s always held you. Right here.