Namaste

This connection to other people, who all have terribly full lives during the other 6 days, is a study in how I relate to the world differently than I ever have in the past.  I used to snort at yoga.  I did Pilates; we had not just mats, but machines to be mastered.

I used to hire someone to do all the yard work, so I could sit back and enjoy it during the few hours I was home.  Today, it doesn’t look quite so manicured, but I can tell you every seedling that has popped out in my starter trays in the morning, and every new bud in the garden.   I slowly rake and reclaim from winter’s damage and delight in the smells and textures.

So, if I can’t afford Pilates five days a week or a yard crew, and I do my yoga faithfully to a worn and tired DVD, it is understandable that at some point the changes would affect other parts of my life.

I would eventually feel comfortable standing in front of someone I have known a total of six hours over two weeks and say, ‘Namaste’ at the end of the evening…  And really, really mean it.

I have climbed the trails in the Nepalese Himalaya and heard the greeting.  I even ventured to respond softly to those who passed me on the trail, as they offered the word to me.  Yet, it always felt like someone else’s language.

Just as I sing the stupid Cub Scouts song every morning to the dogs and quietly say to myself as the sun sets, ‘Thank you for this day,’ I am reveling in the little things.

Embrace the change…