Today was truly a beautiful day. I got up around 5:30, which is unusual for me, especially after a night of heavy rain. I didn’t even get to my bench until around 10 or 11. But interestingly, my yoga actually began in my sleep. My body was stretching, breathing slowly, pulling into the muscles—even in dreams. It felt like I had already been on the mat for hours.
When I finally rose, I continued on the mat, blending push-ups with my yoga sequences—300 in total, each one powered by new breathing techniques that made my whole body feel alive. There’s a strange power in this practice: it is not discomfort but a deep amazement. My lower back feels as if it could realign itself into space.
That first set lasted an hour and a half. Tomorrow, the full sequence may take three hours. This yoga is no longer just exercise; it is meditation. Uncle Greg once told me yoga can turn into meditation, and I see now he was right. In silence, I hear God more clearly—not outside of me, but within my very veins. Every posture whispers scripture: the Bible, the Quran, the Baha’i writings—all of them speaking through the breath of life.
And yet, the mystery of death remains the one unanswered question. Perhaps that is what humbles us the most. But even through the pain of the practice, I am reminded of the yogis who endured such suffering before their bodies finally snapped into place, free from pain. After seven years of deep practice, I feel I am approaching that stage.
At church today, they read from the Book of Ruth and spoke about Jesus’ love. I noticed how often people preach but do not live the philosophy. I’m beginning to see God less in words and more in silence, breath, and posture. Yoga has become physics, science, mathematics—it is everything. Nothing exists outside of us.
A kind woman blessed me with money for food today, and I give thanks for her generosity. After church, I continued on to my AA meeting, grateful for another thread in this daily journey.
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