Yesterday, with a few hours to spare, I quickly ran up two flights of stairs to my apartment, grabbed a towel, a change of clothes and my mat, and headed to the yoga studio. Every single girl in the city should take advantage of yoga (hot yoga to be more exact). I'm not sure what is more empowering - the actual class, or the ability to make the spur-of-the-moment decision to step away for awhile and spend time in a room that, when you close your eyes, makes you feel like you are at a stifling hot beach. Sans a little flirty beverage, of course. Water only permitted.
The instructor asks that everyone find their one word of intention at the start of class. This is the part that gets tricky for me. I try to be focused from the get-go, but there's a sort of panic that goes along with buckling down my intention. At first, I thought of "Christmas". Yes, I love Christmas so much it hurts, but as soon as I thought of Christmas, the heat in the room made me think only of stressed-out drivers honking their horns, the presents I have yet to purchase, and food that is way over the calorie budget. So, instead of thinking of "Christmas", I switched my word to "love". LOVE. I figured love was a good word for drivers who allow the right-of-way to complete strangers. Love means the faces of my neices and nephews that I will see in a few weeks in their green and red PJs. And although historically it may not have been in December, I believe love is the picture of a baby born in a barn among the stench of animals when there was no vacancy in a hotel. Yes. Love.
Near the end of class in the cool-down phase, the instructor put on "Winter Song", sung by Ingrid Michaelson and Sara Bareilles. This song has always been an instant calming force for me. The instructor asked all of us to remember our intention and what it was that kept our focus in class. I kid you not, a few seconds after that question was posed, Sara and Ingrid's voice asked, "Is love alive?" What did I do? Immediately start to cry. My sentimental gauge shoots WAY up during December, and among the sweat of a dark yoga studio, there was no exception. And yes, Ingrid and Sara. Love IS alive.
Later, I later rushed to go babysit for a family I've watched for years. Through first steps, through teething, through learning complete sentences, I've seen it all. When I walked in the door, the kids were TOTALLY wound up, providing a lovely juxtaposition for a yoga studio. But I thought it was wonderful. Kids being kids. The oldest girl was acting so silly, but in her silliness, with no prompt or reason, she blurted out, "Anna is spelled L-O-V-E." Again, lump in my throat. It was silliness on her part, but I couldn't help but think that it was my word of the day. It was a gentle reminder that I am indeed loved. And, with all my faults and shortcomings, I want to strive to love others the way I have been shown love.
Yes...love IS alive.
