Love in Southeast Asia: At home on the Indian Ocean

Maybe it’s jet lag. Or anxiety. Or excitement. But on our fourth travel day I’m wide awake at sunrise.

I brush my teeth and slink out of our quiet, dark room.

I step softly over the sand to the concrete cabana. I unroll my yoga mat with a view of the Indian Ocean.

I drop into child’s pose and find my breath.

With my eyes closed, it feels and smells like home. Like rubber and sweat. Like my sinking hips on my heels. Like a wave of relaxation coming over my body. Like a calm mind.

The sensations of familiarity fill me with joy.

Right now my yoga mat is blowing my mind.  Seventy inches of pure magic.

I take myself through a detox flow. Later, I try to convince my skeptical travel partner that my yoga mat is the solution to all of his current, travel-induced issues. Maybe a few of his ordinary issues, too.

He is resistant to my persuasion.

My body needs no convincing. I feel open and radiant. I feel light and fluid.

I feel like I feel when I get off my yoga mat, every time. Only better.

Today it feels extra special. It feels like I’ve tapped into some secret resource for weary travelers. I want to bottle it, sell it, and retire from lawyering before I even start.

In savasana, I listen to the waves of the Indian Ocean.

I’m having one of those moments that I judge people for when I read about them on Elephant Journal.

One of those moments yoga bloggers describe using words like divine and awakening.

I spend the rest of the day connected to my body. It feels easy to laugh and swim and relax. I am present with my friends.

I am reminded why I fell in love with yoga. So simple. So accessible. So powerful.

Here, there, and everywhere else.

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