Raw, adjective: 9. disagreeably damp and chilly, as the weather or air: a raw, foggy day at the beach.


A beautiful weekend on the prairie.

Re-connecting and re-fueling and re-creating and re-newing.

We did some good strong sweaty asana Saturday afternoon at Yoga Body & Balance in Lincoln (thank you, radiant Thomas and Tataya!) and again today at One Tree Yoga (Jamie and crew, you rock!). In between times it was all prairie winds whipping and old friends re-visiting and easy catching-up with the most real, most rad Meyer cousins over dinner and a few blessed moments of silence and stillness intermingled with some precious stolen time at the baby grand piano before heading out for the airport this evening.

Worn out, well lived-in, I gladly settled into a seat at the bar in Omaha to watch the second half of the Giants-49ers playoff game. My flight was delayed, which felt like an unexpected gift; I savored the sport and the solitude and yes, the Sauza Hornitos, sitting there watching football and running over pleasant memories of the weekend in my mind.

And then they announced that our flight was delayed again, and so we sat on the runway for an hour, wondering who was winning in overtime, only to land here in Denver and discover that the blue carpeted floor would be my bed for the night.

Synopsis: Stranded in the Denver airport overnight. 49ers lose in overtime.

So? You choose how to react. In every breath, you choose how to react.

Patanjali wrote in Sutra 1.1, Atha yoga anusasanam: "Now is the time for yoga to begin." The yoga starts here, in moments like this one, sprawled on the dirty airport floor, eating Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, in the choosing not to freak out. In calmly and reasonably and patiently saying, "Ok, cool, so it's out of my control, and the weather was what it was, and this is my teacher, so thank you, guru inadvertent airport sleepover, for giving me a chance to practice being patient and chill and flexible."

This is why we practice. Not so we can put our feet behind our heads, or so we have really stretchy hamstrings, or a hot yoga ass. We practice so that when life behaves differently than we would like for it to, we already know how to be flexible with it, to let go of control, to soften our faces and relax our shoulders and breathe space into the minutes and know we'll be just fine.

So, thanks, barefoot airport slumber party, for reminding me what it means to do yoga.

Atha yoga anusasanam. Now is the time for yoga to begin.

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