Comfortable With Conformity
I took a free yoga class with my sister at school. Let me tell you, yoga is unbelievably challenging. I was dripping sweat all over the cheap blue mat that was provided for me. I got shin splints. The instructor, this gentle, dance-teacher-like fairy, positioned me in a pose where my feet were up in the air, over my head, my my hands on my butt balancing. She said, "Are you ok?" I whimpered, "I'm a little dizzy," and she gently rolled me back down.
The end of the session was about ten minutes of meditation: lying on the floor, palms up, breathing and thinking of nothing. The instuctor came around and gave us each a little massage and tapped something fragrant against our foreheads. It was the calmest I've been in a long day. I was very grateful for the session.
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