So there I was practicing Kapotasana against the wall, prying my heart open. It takes years, I now know, to reopen a broken heart that's been sealed and closed. I tried three times, just letting my hands reach what it can and I moved on to good old Urdhva Dhanurasana.
Jon, being the wonderful teacher that he is, caught me before my 3rd drop back on the wall. Kapotasana , he said. Okay. Trust and Obedience.
I attempted, fully supported to see how far I could go. On the second try, I was able to go deeper but my knees were slipping. I was asked to remove my pink towel from the mat.
And then it happened. No walking towards the hand, no walking fingers. Jon aided me into a full Kapotasana, hands on feet, forearms on the floor.
My heart opened and, as expected, I am now dangerously vulnerable and broken. Just to test if I had truly learned anything, the circumstances after that night's practice are heart-crushing but I am bent on my back and breathing. Bent on keeping my heart afloat.
May it never harden. May it never close again.
(April 25)
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