“Breathe in! Breathe out.

Breathe in and slowly move your chin to the right.

Exhale, back to center. Inhale, chin toward the right.”

I slowly lead my chin, and my mind, into a trance. I’m so ready to leave this world and get transported by the words of my yoga teacher.

“Now inhale, move your head down, toward your chest.”

Ahhhh, I sigh. God that feels good.

“After all,” the teacher explains soothingly, “the head weights 15-20 pounds. That’s….”

WHAT? My eyes pop open as they reach for the yogi’s eyes. Is she kidding?

“Yes, yes,” she says gently. That’s a lot of weight we carry on our neck.”

I stop inhaling.

I stop exhaling.

My brain races with the thought. Twenty pounds? No wonder I can’t lose weight. Those 20 pounds of pure brain tissue are keeping the scale unmoving, no matter that I gave up ice cream.

My body lists to the left. Oh shoot, I’m almost fainting because I’ve stopped breathing.

Inhale, Pam. Inhale.

But 20 POUNDS of brain? Why had I not considered this before? All the dreams and wishes and worries in there. All the love and hate (not much hate, but I really do dislike baked ham) in there. And the conversations – internally and then externally.

The soul – how much does the SOUL weigh, compared to the brain?

“Pam. Pam,” the teacher looks grieved. “Where are you?”

I stand up straighter, swaying a bit from the lack of oxygen.

“I’m leaving,” I announce.

I need to find someplace to weigh my head.

I float out the door, my head trailing behind, feeling heavier than ever before.