It was like the trees were raining. Not a constant drizzle, and certainly not a steady downpour from gray clouds. The sky was pure blue and the air was crisp. But the previous night had scattered a few showers, and the trees were slow to release their newly caught raindrops, gently set free from sporadic rustles of a gentle breeze or a squirrel's chase.
What do we do when rain falls out of a clear blue sky? We get a little wet and walk on, marveling at nature’s insistence on paradox.
Yoga, too, is built on paradox. We practice to reconcile what seem like opposite forces—sun and raindrops, joy and grief, amazement and apathy. The work of yoga is to unwind the mistaken belief that the temporary is permanent and that the ephemeral is beyond reach. Through practice, we learn to live in a world that is forever imperfect yet endlessly generous, hiding its gifts in plain sight. Practice sharpens our ability to see those gifts by learning to look in the right places.
Join us to find the sun between a cascade of raindrops.