I hiked my way down the red, hard rock trail toward the edge of the water and laid out my yoga mat. I opened my Yoga Journal Magazine to an inspiring page of yoga sequences and took in the fresh salt air. The Straight of Juan de Fuca lay just beyond and offered a plentiful breeze.
I had come to escape the business of my house. My husband was tinkering around with his tools in the garage and there were plenty of chores to do. I, however, wanted to get away for a moment and invest in some centering. My goal was to recharge for the week.
As I begun my practice, moving with slow, exacting changes of movement, I became aware of the sun high above. It glowed against the bright blue sky. Today, I let my hair out of its fastener and let it fly recklessly with the ocean air. I moved from pose to pose, from child to camel and back to child. Again from child to camel and back to child. As I did so, I felt as if there was a connection between myself and the sun and the sky. Breathing in the air, steadily letting if flow out, the undulations of my body warming with the full spectrum of the sun's force.
I spent time with balances, inversions, and some strengthening poses. All were exceptionally delicious out on the edge of the sound, away from busy sun-seeking explorers in their busy cars. Down by the water, against the backdrop of the scintillating sparkles of water, I engaged in my love affair with the elements. My body and them were engaged in balanced in such a way that I didn't want to go.
After a meditation, I climbed down the 20 feet of bluff to dance my toes across the top of the churning water. The kelp stood witness.
After a short conversation with a lone hiker and his goat-climbing-like-child, I rolled up my mat and hiked back up the path barefoot, feeling the warm path below me.
