Blissed Out

Monday nights go like this.

Beloved arrives home from work and takes over as primary parent for a while.  I kiss goodbye and hop on my bike into the cool, dark night. Cycle the 5 odd miles into town come rain or shine mulling over events of the day. I like this quiet thought time.

Arrive at the yoga studio and go in to claim a space.  The room is hot and sultry, lit only by candles and the several wall mounted heaters which give off a gentle heat and a twilight glow.  The room becomes very full, very quickly.  It is also quiet.  There's something of the spiritual in the room without a doubt.

The fabulous teacher starts to talk through the sequence - it's the same each time.  26 postures performed twice on each side of the body.  It is rigorous, demanding in the heat, and yet fills me with a profound calm.

90 minutes later rejuvenated, wrung out, washed clean and re-enthused for life my middle aged body unlocks my middle aged bike and we head home together in a fabulous daze.

I feel younger than 45.  Partly because I wanted to never lose the wonder and tenacity of the questioning child I was, I think.  But these Monday nights are another reason why.