Some days I move from breakfast to math teaching, to music coaching, to history reading, to book promoting, to science experimenting, to bean soaking, to rice rinsing, to story writing, to lunch time, to lettuce washing, to grocery-list-making, to play practice, to piano lesson, to soccer drop-off, to dinner cooking.
And while I’m doing or dropping or calling or talking, I’m also planning and scheduling and calling and arranging and driving.
And sometimes, while driving, a stop sign appears.
And then, I stop.
Not tap and roll.
Not break and wait one sec.
But actually halt.
The car’s chassis rocks forward and back.
The weight of the vehicle redistributes itself and rests.
All motion ceases.
And as the car rests, I rest too.
I considered writing next about how at that stop sign, I take that yoga belly breath: the tummy inhale that pushes the belly out, and while the breath moves to the rib cage, lungs and side-ribs expand. But I cannot tell a lie.
Nope, instead I follow my yoga teacher’s advice during shavasana, (that moment at the end of practice when I lie on my back, eyes closed, arms and legs spread at about 45 degrees), and let my belly breathe. She says stopping to lie still can be the hardest pose. And perhaps, sometimes it is.
After I observe this sign, I look both ways.
But, for now, for fun, I’ll stop here.
Author: Jenn Castro
Image: Flickr/Tony Fischer
Editor: Travis May