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.