One Moment

After weeks in scorching heat, where the air actually sizzles and the sauna seeps into my bones, the clouds finally open and soak the soil. In this one moment, a tiny green leaf curls out of the damp Texas clay, reaching towards the sun.

He is grounded and nourished and reaches upward.

On my mat, at Temple Road Yoga, nestled in a tiny corner on the west side of Fort Worth, I lay on my right side. Little Guy falls slightly forward. Gravity is not forgiving. The story plays in my heart. This is so hard. You can’t do it.

You might be right, but let’s give it a try anyway.

I place my hands together, transferring strength and energy from the right to the left. Pulling in my core. Pressing my right side into the mat. Squeezing my shoulder blades together. I close my eyes and look.

I search for the space. The moment just before the spark, just before the neurons find each other.

The dark moment of uncertainty and potentiality. That moment seeks for life. It is black and empty and scary. Like that tiny green leaf just before he breaks through the surface into an unknown world.

I find the dark space, resting between two neurons. That silent space where time does not exist, where breath pauses and where hope manifests. The potential energy builds until it cannot be contained, when at exactly the same moment they reach for each other. They are gentle and unassuming, respectful and cooperative. They reach. To me it feels like a feathers floating together but faster than a thought or a spark of electricity. They link together as if they were made for each other and finally found their mate.

And I lift.

Little Guy hovers just above the floor, and I hug my muscles into my bones and lift, strengthening the link between brand new neurons. He curls up, one excruciating degree at a time.

He is perpendicular with the floor. Holy cow! He is pointing straight up into the air. He wobbles and shakes with my excitement and disbelieve. I find the moment once more and rest in it. In the unassuming, gentle cooperation between neurons, between breaths, and between earth and sky.

I accept the support all around me. God has already given us amazing and wonderful ways to live. Sometimes, most of the time, we need help to see it. My own body and breath supports and contains me. I am supported and lifted by the ground below and the sky above. My friend kneels beside me, supporting me, giving herself to this one moment.

And in this moment, I am grounded and nourished. And I reach.

That is what yoga is, but more importantly that is what life is about. That moment. Can you find that moment? Can you trust that moment? Can you rest in it, and see the potential? Can you risk the dark to find the light?

Where is the resistance? The doubt? The pain? The fear?

In a downward facing dog, can you stretch your spine long? Release your hamstrings. Pull your heart towards your thighs. Find the moment. There is so much going on in your body. Can you slow it down? Focus on that one moment. Find your breath. Approach your edge and breathe into it. As it moves, move with it.

Sitting across from your friend or spouse or child, can you stretch your heart forward? Release your ego. There are so many beliefs and misconceptions and preconceptions going on in your body. Slow it down. Focus. Be in the moment. Be present.

Curled up alone. Lonely. Afraid. Needing something, someone. Can you stretch your breath deeper? Where is the resistance? The doubt? The pain? The fear? Can you find it in your body and breathe into it? Support it and see it. Give it the love it needs.

As I accept the support, my arm reaches to the sky. The wobbles lessen, and I continue, stretching it back.

But now I must change muscles and neurons. It’s a little clumsy and awkward, as I allow the scapular retractors to release. The neurons get crossed or confused or my tricep just wants to help. The elbow flings open, and the arm falls back. Exhaling, I gather the muscles and bones and neurons. Doing this new thing is hard and clumsy and awkward.

And unknown. What is going to be on the other side of that door? And there is the fear.

What if we focus on this one moment, not on the future?

To be a warrior is to learn to be genuine in every moment of your life. –Chogyam Trungra
Look, and sink more deeply until the arms of the mind are not long enough to reach you. Then you are in a beautiful place. -Mooji

The Flying Lessons
Be willing to walk through hell.
Sometimes it doesn’t change. That’s okay.
Really live, now.

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