Day 3 – Beginning To Blur 

We watch the sunrise from Pohoiki beach. I walk down with Trish, Abbey and Brenda. Trish and Abbey live on Maui island. Abbey is a strong and grounded brunette with fierce hazel eyes and an unmissable determination. She is a golf pro and wants to introduce yoga for golfers at the course where she works. Trish is unassuming, hilarious and gentle. I noticed her strong maternal instinct when she cured my migraine (from coffee withdrawal) with peppermint essential oils she keeps by her side, then continued to ask how I was feeling and if I needed more. Brenda is a mother. She is wise, loveable and soft. I silently note how I feel very connected to the yogis in my group. As we saunter down the road to the ocean our conversations flow easily. We have passed the introduction, get to know each other type conversations and now can be present in the moment, sharing how we feel on this journey. We all speak the same language and from the exercises of the last few days, our energies seem to have mended together. To describe it esoterically, the line between them and me is beginning to blur.

Rebecca has run down to the shore and is waiting in the water when we arrive. We all jump in and in moments are splashing in the waves like free loving kids. The powerful undertow pulls us in a sweeping motion forward and back, as if the ocean is breathing and we are caught in the ride. In the distance the sun breaks through the horizon in a fiery red ball and releases light into the vast cloudy sky. The day has begun and already it’s beautiful.

Upon returning back to the yoga pavilion, the room is in full force as yogis shift about on their mats. We are missing three: the married couple and Jo, who we left surfing at the beach. “So what if she misses meditation,” we all agreed. “Surfing is her meditation.” Someone has asked who will teach meditation today. A silence sweeps through the room. It is as if we hold our breathes when we want to remain silent. I have nothing prepared, actually or mentally. I have led as many meditations as I can count on one hand. On top of it, I fear standing in front of a room. Though my calmness is palpable. I swam in the ocean, watched the sun shimmer the day awake already this morning. It is 7am and possibly more than I ever have in my life, today I embody joy, gratitude and serenity. I face my fears. “I’ll do it,” I say. I pull my mat to the front of the room, folding it twice. I sit cross legged, my mala heavy around my neck, my body still, my voice strong. “Closing your eyes,” I start to say, to the room full of yogis. “Ground your sit bones into the earth…”

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