It is 4:00 am and my body woke up on her own accord, I make it to my mat, and I bow down in balasana (child’s pose) and breathe.

In the solitude of my mat, I exhale completely and listen. The next inhale is rolling in and I surrender into the familiar rhythm exhale to inhale.  With each breath I feel an expanding sense of gratitude, thankful for this quite space in the heart of winter. 

This space is where I can close my eyes and lay my face to the floor. This space is warm and dry, there is clean air and clean water, no war is at my doorstep and food is in the fridge. Now in the quiet I can hear the voice of my Grandma Kimmie speaking, “Can you imagine!”  This was her softly spoken phrase for all aspects of daily living that marveled her. I wondered -- how many times was the sunrise not quiet for her?  What had she known before?  She did not say.  Yet, for the familiar rhythm of my breathing, she would be aware. Can you imagine!

I smile at her memory and whisper the words aloud to my mat “can you imagine”. My smile merges into gratitude; warmth radiates from the center of my belly out and I cannot help but flow into my free form movement practice.  With deep appreciation, my day has begun. 

We are lucky to live close to my sister’s family, and we recognize our privilege to be able to take the precautions necessary to assure we were COVID free prior to venturing to her house to share a holiday meal with their sweet family including my nieces ages 7 and 3.  This year the only one in our group who is not vaccinated is the 3-year-old. Are all the days of self-quarantine and the time and money for testing worth it? No question. 

Our family afternoon into evening was a mix of food preparations with my sister and crafting projects with my nieces.  We had plenty of good music and a few dance breaks! I am a movement junkie.  I could not help but notice that while my sister is cooking, she unconsciously is moving through a variety of yoga poses; malasana (deep squat) to check the mushrooms roasting in the oven. She balances and stretches into a “shooting star” shape in order to reach a cutting board on the very top shelf. There are spinal spirals as she keeps one hand stirring what is on the stove and points to the cabinet that holds the tea selection for me. Swirl again and her other hand points to the wine glass for my husband.  One little girl comes strolling into the kitchen, “Mama what are you doing? Can I see?”  Indeed, there is power lifting every mother knows.

My sister has been on her feet all day, and I ask if she wants to take a rest. She offers a slow smile and a side to side of turn of her head.  She says that she loves cooking these festive family feasts.  “It is my space to feel a flow of creativity.” Yes, I can see the life force moving through her as she gracefully works her magic; our nourishing meal comes together infused with her care for our family.  Like my yoga mat, my sister’s kitchen is a safe space to connect with gratitude, with love, with creativity to let the energy flow. 

There is a pocket of play time between dinner and tubby-time and the other bedtime rituals for my nieces.  Our 7-year-old can happily chat with the adults, read a book, or whistle tunes while she completes the craft project that we had started before dinner. 

Our curiously active 3-year-old rediscovered the sliding options of the kitchen floor.  She effortlessly drops to her belly and reaches her arms out in front, palms touching like the bow of a sailing ship.  To propel herself forward along the smooth floor her little tail rises, and she pushes from the balls of her feet.  Her ribcage glides along the tile without friction thanks to her t-shirt. I chuckle inside at the thought that perhaps the most “advanced” of yoga postures might have been based on the playful antics of toddlers. Maybe, the best thing I can do movement wise as an adult is -- to watch toddlers and do the best I can to move like them.

For both the 3- and 7-year-old, their entire home represents a safe space, a space they are free to explore, a space that welcomes them to express themselves.

It is the end of a glorious holiday and we are tucked up in bed. I can hear my husband’s breathing shift as he slides into deeper sleep.  LOL.  By some miracle I am awake. I close my eyes and I exhale completely and listen; I feel the next inhale rolling in and surrender into the familiar rhythm exhale to inhale.  

In the quiet of the winter night images from the day float lightly as I drift into dreamland:  There are baby girls exploring their environment and expressing themselves, my sister moving magically in her open space kitchen, my exhale and inhale are wishing open-heart space for all humans to feel safe and free. Grandma Kimmie would say:  Can you imagine.

Sleep.  In a few hours I will wake and find my mat.  Exhale and inhale.   

Move. 

I invite you to move and breathe.

Move and breathe and let the grace of life force flow through you. 

Let’s move together into 2022.