It is nothing but wintry white outside, but the crocuses have bloomed and are lying in wait for the snow to melt. No longer unequivocally winter but not yet fully spring, this in-between-the-seasons time here in Colorado is one in which it can be hard to find our bearings. We are drawn by glorious shirtsleeves days into the hopefulness of spring only to be abruptly pulled back by a weather advisory storm into the weightiness of winter.
This year the disorientation is not just due to the vagaries of weather. Our long awaited emergence from the ravages of the pandemic appears to be looming, coinciding with the advent of spring, adding to the already heady euphoria of anticipating that season, even as news of continued COVID deaths, emerging viral variants, economic disparities and uncertainty about when or if life will ever return to “normal”, draw us back into wintry solemnity.
In the midst of these uncertainties, we come to our yoga mats. Bringing our kind, focused attention, we listen to our bodies as they communicate in the language of the body, sensation. We respond with sincerity of effort, giving to our embodied selves that which we need. We come into balance. We find our bearings…