Relax. Let yourself go. Forget. Asatoma Sadgamaya. Listen to the rhythm of the words. Ta – ma – soma Jyo-thir-ga-maya. The sound of the way they say Mrithyorma Amrutangamaya. Ignore that you don’t know their meaning. Listen to the teacher’s kind call – shanti. Don’t think about how her honey blonde hair, pulled off the sides of her face and twisted into a perfectly casual looped bun, is also sleek and smooth. Your frizzy curls, hastily forced back into a rubber band don’t exist. Close your eyes against her bright complexion. Against your poorly, inexpertly concealed pores.
Listen to the classes’ return – shanti. Revel in the group. You’re not a joiner – you are a belonger.
Shoo away thoughts of work. Enjoy this day, Labor Day, a day of celebrating the achievements of workers by forgetting about deadlines and promotions. About futures and inconsiderate co-workers who care not about your projects. Hear the classes Om. Hear the om shanti…the bass and the soprano echoing and mingling. Hear the sound waves vibrate in you.
Let your muscles unclench, let them feel soft. Let your head lead the neck to the left, further and all the way to the right; free from cracks or grinding pops that threaten immobility. Now, push your shoulders down, now up and roll back, feel how the left is free from burning aches. Feel how the right doesn’t twitch. How your body loosens at it forgets control.
Relax, I promise your world will not be destroyed.
Do not think about the stretch waistband tight against your stomach. Do not think about how you could or should be buying stylish yoga pants for your one free day of yoga per year. Settle your hands, stop pulling the edge of the black exercise shorts away from your thigh.
You are moving your toes – that little toe on the right foot – I can see it moving against the mat. Calm it.