I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March.  You should do it too!  Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing! 

I’m lying down in yoga class, and I’m thinking of something I want to write about. It is almost articulated in my mind.

It is not that I am so excited to wear my yoga pants for actual yoga. (Even though I am!)

It is not that this peaceful class, so quiet and calm with all its breathing, will be over and the welcome into the real world will be harsh and cold and loud. (Even though it will be.)

Thoughts are supposed to come without judgement during yoga. I am supposed to notice them and move on. But this is March, so I analyze and reflect and try to put into words… What is this slice that is flittering around my brain?

I’m twisted, my arms out in a T. My left leg is bent on top of my right leg. I am told to keep my shoulders pressed and grounded and I think I am. I feel twisted and I’m breathing my “complete breaths.”  My teacher comes over to ask me how I’m doing. I nod and say “I’m good.”

She says “I’m just going to check your shoulder.” Her hand is able to go completely under my shoulder, which means my shoulder wasn’t where it was supposed to be. She gently pulls my arm into the correct position, and it is startling to me how different it feels. I thought I was twisted correctly, and doing fine. But then she corrects me. We switch to the other side, and I try to use what I learned, and let my shoulders fall into the floor. My teacher comes again, asking how I am doing. “I’m good.” I say. “I think.” I add. She checks, and I am better, but still need help putting my arms in the best spot.  She gently leans on my shoulders pushing them farther down.

I continue to notice my shoulders and how they try to trick me throughout my yoga. They hold tension I don’t quite understand, and I often think I’ve relaxed into a position, only to notice that my shoulders are braced and tight.

I’m thinking about honesty. I’m thinking about yoga, and also writing. As my slicing muscles flex and bend again this March, I feel my writing so far,  is like my yoga tonight. I think I am being authentic as I write. But when I reflect on my words, I am left feeling like there are words between my lines. They are waiting with tension: braced and tight. I’ll need to push myself, ground myself in this writing practice in order to relax — into honesty.