Back to Breath

My body isn’t used to this. The yoga instructor makes it look so easy, bones and muscles untrained and underused attempt new angles often needing a little or a lot of help. I’m holding my breath. As if on cue, she reminds me to breathe. Deep inhale in, slow exhale out. Yoga reminds me to breathe. Amongst all the busy and strange new things, settle in and breathe. I forget again and again. I push legs and actions into new places, busy brain scurrying, while forgetting the most important thing…just breathe. So much distraction, cars flurry by heading to work, school, wherever. Unfocused thought. Gal next to me is nailing this flow while I’m looking like a clumsy toddler, unbalanced and unsure. Comparison.  Upcoming to-dos, what am I making for dinner, did I shut the garage door? Distraction. What am I doing, I’m out of shape, arms too short, booty unbalanced.  Self Doubt. Bring it back to breath.  Let all the distracting chatter spill away….I feel my feet, secure, cushioned by my soft ivory mat. Toes released from their grip, wiggling free. Big toe and pinky bones finding their base, settling in. Just this. All is good, breathe in. I am good.  Breathe out.  He built me for good.  Breathe in.  Goodness follows me all my days.  Breathe out. He is good.  Breathe in. Getting better every day. Breathe out. I’ve got this.  A giant dump truck bounds by the window…what’s He carrying? Squirelly thought… back to breath.