I don’t think I’ve ever opened my eyes in śavāsana before. I did today. I suddenly realised I was looking at the ceiling and the dimmed lights above me. A weird out of body experience where I was acutely aware of my body lying there, vulnerable and open, melting into the mat, taking up the space it needed, living and breathing for now. Aware also that one day my body would be laid out like this after the breathing has stopped. When there are no more inhales. After the final exhale.
No wonder such thoughts came to mind since class had started with a meditation on the imminence of death and the fragility of life.
And the time in class that was bracketed by these sober reflections was for me a celebration of being alive and feeling alive. I was here, back in class after a week away looking after my body and nurturing it through some days of illness. Practicing today felt like a corporeal springtime — my body blooming again after a hibernation. Every movement brought life back into dormant muscles. Stretching and breathing never felt so good. Inhaling to expand and breathe into cobwebby corners. Exhaling away the tensions that had built up over a sedentary week.
Final folding poses were a welcoming acceptance of what my body is today. Today there is nothing to prove, just joy at being.