T’was the night before Christmas, I needed to chill,
So I got on my mat, and I got very still.
The bills I had racked loomed large in my head
I’d done it again, despite what I’d said
To myself—I had promised this year I’d try harder
I’d try very hard to be fiscally smarter.
As I moved into down dog, I breathed in the air
Filled with pine from the Christmas tree standing downstairs,
And the lingering scent of the dinner I made
Of brown rice and mung beans (which nobody ate),
And I gazed at my navel and vowed to ignore
The dirt and detritus littering the floor
The pine needles, the dog hair and discarded clothes
The thing the cat left not an inch from my nose.
I moved out of dog and saluted the sun
The negatives dropping away one by one.
I soared into half moon, feeling strong now
I reached and I stretched and I twisted and bowed.
My body got warm and my mind became clear—
Then I remembered what I’m doing here.
In my imperfect house, with it’s dusty knick knacks
Filled with unruly children eating unhealthy snacks
In my imperfect body, aging each day
And my imperfect mind which won’t do what I say,
I’m living my life here breath by breath
Savoring each moment I have before death.
Remember, remember, I tell myself
Be nice and be kind and be soft with yourself.
You don’t get unlimited Christmases, you know,
So enjoy this one and then let it go.
As I settled into my last resting pose,
And I let the air in and back out of my nose,
I felt light and clean and I knew all was well,
Because yoga, again, had cast its still spell.
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Editor: Bryonie Wise