savansana

Starting in savasana, arms lengthened to the sides, there is this place of in-between where I resist the letting go. Where I resist the absolute stillness. Even the background 'om' is an irritant.

If I wait it out, the sounds of trucks and outside noise move from distractions to actual pathways -- portals to someplace deeper. The truck is not a truck, but the pulse of the universe, celestial.

My body is weighted to the floor, anchored solid, heavy, unmoving. Unmovable.

Then comes a line of warmth, radiating across the top edge of my ribs, and I can will the me that's within my body to peel away from the physical as pure energy. I remember the movie 'Ghost,' how when the people die, their souls move out. And this is what it's like. A ball of energy hovering above somersaults forward through space. It flattens, then spins like a frisbee across distance. And then slows and lifts like Tinkerbell.

My body below is dead weight. Shoulders pressed into the floor. Still. Unmovable.

Breathing is slow and easy. And the heat near my heart remains.

Upon suggestion of thought, the energy returns to my body, sliding into that crease of warmth. It spreads across my chest, my arms, down into my legs. Not until it pushes into my hands and fingers and into my feet do I wiggle my extremities, reunited as one. The limitless contained for now within a body, my body.