I admit that I was once one of those people who quickly escaped the Yoga class just as the final resting pose, savasana, was to begin. I would plan to get the spot closest to the door and just as everyone else was finding their way to their backs, I would gather all my belongings and tiptoe quietly out the door, relieved that I made it out.
Avoidance of stillness. Avoidance of the quiet. Avoidance of the truth.
That quiet surrender that happens when the body is resting was so scary and so foreign. I fled. I fled from the rising truth within me and from the idea of doing nothing, yet doing everything. I feared what I would discover about myself. I was completely terrified of the vulnerability of just being. Being.
Today, I crave the final pose.
I long to be still, quiet, and heavy as my focus is on my breath. Eventually, the focus softens and my body completely and ultimately settles into this wonderful space of freedom. The effortlessness of my breath, my body, and my mind is like a vast pool of still water. It is like the glistening of fresh snow clinging to trees. It is like the endless waves that roll in, one after another. It is like the moon above. The freedom of being, without effort.
What a gift to see the evolving of my personal practice. Freedom to do nothing, and to simply be. Grateful.