Wash Away the Salty Morning

This morning I woke to a beautiful start, which is rare for an early anything with me because, in the mornings, I prefer silence and coffee.

For some reason, still in bed, my little black and white cat attacking my toes with all the might in her paws and savagery of her teeth, I awoke early to sunshine, feeling genuinely happy. By 6 am I was up and ready for yoga and all the to-do’s there were to do in my day.

But between the coffee and the yoga, a couple of things unexpectedly went awry. Things that flipped my happiness on the floor like a pancake that missed the pan and splatted the floor. The sudden pivot from joy to let down was tough.

So, the heavy replaced the light, and discouraged, I trudged off to yoga.

There, under the palapa, a few of us yogies gathered and waited for class to begin. We watched the crashy blue ocean, its tide rising higher and higher and bubbling across the sand and reaching close to the palapa floor.

We waited. And we waited. No yoga teacher. Rather than lie around, or go home, another yogi took over and led us through a vinyasa instead.

Halfway through, our yoga teacher finally arrived, having come through hell or high water (literally) herself, to show up for her students. Students who were now in full “side plank star” and couldn’t stop…