We woke to a pastel sky. Windows all round. Sky to the east breaking with morning. We woke rested. We woke happy and calm. Windows all around. Sky to the east bleeding pink and blue.
Yoga was billed as gentle. It was. A room full of people. Some old. Some young. Some somewhere in the middle. All comfortable. All showing up to their mats. All moving through the poses in their own way. The yoga here is different from what I've experienced.
The yoga here is simple and complex at the same time. This is not hot yoga. This is not amplified yoga. This is not way-the-fuck-out-there hippie-for-the-sake-of-hippie yoga. This is yoga. It is available. It is encouraging. It is embracing. It is lead by yogis with heart and love. It is complex and steeped in ancient. It is simple enough to welcome all. This is yoga.
We left the practice. I felt as ready for a day as possible. No matter what the day offered, I was there. Ready and willing to enjoy it.
It offered a four mile hike. It offered another 2 mile hike. It offered whales, seals, coyotes, birds. It offered a long drive to a lighthouse. It offered a nap. It offered dinner. It offered a family celebrating pre-wedding at the Old Western Saloon. It offered a musician. It offered a warm bed and a soft pillow.
We got in bed as the sun slipped away. The sky, still pastel, turned red then gold. It turned cerulean then deepened. It turned dark. It turned night.
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