Tonight at yoga I kept my eyes open the entire "sacred rest" period. I kept envisioning myself as Zach Braff in the opening scene of Garden State when he's lying in his bed staring at the ceiling as his dad leaves a voice message about his mom dying in the bathtub.
It's all very depressing. . . but I wasn't depressed at yoga. It's just the ceiling was so still (much more still than my brain), and I didn't feel like communing with much else. . . there was something eerily intoxicating about that giant yellow orb above my head. . . I couldn't stop staring at it. I kept thinking about my day, and how Danny and I are planning an ice-cream social for our ward/church/whatever you want to call it. . . and well, just life in general. Where I want to go, what I want to be. . . all mixed in with that soft yellow light from the giant sphere above my relaxed and corpse-like body.
It's amazing what your mind dreams up when someone tells you to think of nothing. The thing is, I think yoga keeps me sane. . . Because even if I can't think if nothing . . . sometimes I just pray. . . and I wonder if my God finds humor that a little Mormon girl is praying to Him while she's practicing a piece of hindu religion.
It's all very beautiful I think. God must laugh a lot; I mean how could he not be cracking up about this cosmic joke we call life. . . For all of its beauty, and its heartache, it's merits, rewards, and sorrow. . . It's a pretty incredible thing (life). But I'm still really glad my belief system entitles me to hold to the idea (and reality if you want to get philosopical), that it gets better.
All these years, plenty of therapists and life coaches all saying the same thing . . . telling me my busy mind would benefit from yoga. Then again, a lot of people told me I would benefit from sex too.
Amazing the wisdom that can be found in the majority.
Namaste and good night.