Taking Courage to the Corner

Habits form whether we want them to or not. Take hot yoga. Each week, I walk barefoot into a mist of stale sweat, reacquaint myself with the smell of adolescent feet, and roll out my mat just steps from the door. This one door into the heated room separates us from the reality of fresh, cool air. There is a crack under it and if you angle your mat just right, you can catch a hint of its heaven during the hell of the full locust or the respite of savasana. Sometimes, when you're lucky, and when your face spells "H-E-L-P," the instructor will crack it open or wave its gifts into the depths of our very own rainforest. Therefore, my first pitstop upon arriving to hot yoga, is the dumping of my mat to this spot, this crutch of cool air.

Reminds me of the time I took a trip to Mission, South Dakota with a church youth group in high school. To engage with the Native American culture we were serving, a group of us took part in the sweat lodge ritual. We sat shoulder to shoulder in a canvas tent around a pile of burning hot lava rocks. The Chief poured water over them, let steam permeate the congregates, and sang traditional chants. I had never coveted cold things so badly: orange soda, ice cubes, a brick wall-- anything! Because it was utterly dark, I found the cool earth with my face and rooted like a pig. Talk about humbling. And fifteen minutes later, I exited the tent, dirt-faced, drenched, and about the happiest I can remember. Talk about moving mountains.

And just last week, my friend Vanessa and I showed up to hot yoga fresh after an 8 hour work day. Many others had a similar notion. The lobby was full of first timers signing waivers, asking questions through their jitters, and as we piled into the room, I found my usual spot full of freshman yogis. So, we took to the dreaded back corner, the corner that couldn't see the horizon, the first daffodil of Spring, the infant's first smile. The muscular man with many tattoos laid his mat beside of me and I suddenly felt ill-equipped. Maybe I needed a barbed wire chain around my bicep.

But as most things go, we got started and we breathed deeper. We stared into our own eyes for the half-moon, the eagle, the tree. When the door opened, I couldn't feel the cool, but I knew it was there. When I quit expecting it, I gave more attention to my breath, to how happy the pigeon makes my hips, and how falling into child's pose after the camel is a lot like seeing the horizon. And then, I realized, the corner is okay. The cool air was how I remembered it the whole way home.

This photo has very little to do with my blogpost, but I found it so striking. Imagine being chased by a tornado of cotton candy! I suppose it's a little like hot yoga. A little scary and A LOT sweet.

And here's my lovely lady pal, Vanessa. We also ride swings at the fair together.

xo Corrie Lynn