Breathe in. Breathe out.

Remember, your breath. Don’t lose it in the movement. Your breath is your center, your stability.

Sixty minutes of stretching, holding, and balancing, or shall I say, an attempt at such, constituted my first Yoga session. Skeptical and inexperienced, I entered the room at the invite of a friend and the chance to try something new.

New.

New seasons. New Life. Spring is upon us. Trees, wind, and sun, bringing forth… new.

But what if I don’t want new? The winter has been long, but it is at least familiar. Cold and dark, it has become home. To give up the familiar for the unknown, now that sounds dangerous. No, I’d rather it just stay winter.

Yet there’s something in me that dreams of more. Hidden in the depths of memory, a voice calls out. It tells stories of evening strolls down foliage-roofed rivers, of old streets filled with old men and their accordions. It whispers sunshine’s touch, the scent of warm rain. There’s more than this, and you know it.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Don’t lose your center.

Center. What center? It’s changing. It will always change.

I kick, scream, and whine. There is no price too high if it would only buy an ounce of stability, a gram of normal. But try as I may, time will not stop. It will not be crystalized, held, or contained.

It will keep moving, it will keep going forward.

“The mercy of the world is time. Time does not

stop for love, but it does not stop for

death and grief,

either.”

– Wendell Berry

Time is stable, in instability secure. Its movements are ungraspable, but rather grasping. The rhythm marches on, the seasons with them for Spring will not be held back. She is far too grand to be ignored. She will not be given up for a moment of the familiar. We need her. We need to remember that the movement can be trusted, that something has us in grip.

It may seem chaotic. It’s ok.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Still Wandering,

Tony