Ashtanga to the beat of the drum, repetive and strong- magic. The heat in the room enveloping me completely. The beat, the beat, the beat.
No melody, but beat, beat, beat.
Fast, sweaty and breathless, then stop: Notice, and correct- Deeper slower exhales that travel way further out than I thought possible.
Alignment feeling pure and right- easy, then even better- by the hands of the teacher guiding- Epiphany! My edge comes back with the most subtle shift of the hip.
Shifting from the form of the body to mind of formlessness.
Music stops.
I love how this teacher describes and emphasizes that every movement in life is a yoga movement if you let it be so. I find myself driving home with the vertebrae of my spine stacked like a totem on sacred space, so tall and self-assured that my head hits the ceiling of the car.
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