I’m your basic centered, normal, more ‘in there,’ than ‘out there’ woman.
That said, I’ve just had an amazing experience that seems unexplainable.
It began in yoga class (and for those of you non-yogis, don’t nod your head knowingly as if that makes me susceptible to ‘strangeness’). Here in the left coast, at least, yoga is accepted as an important part of the exercise regimen of many: men, women, old, young.
So back to yoga class. I arrive after work, exhausted, ready to go home instead and plop on the couch while sipping on a class of wine. But I make myself attend the hour-long yoga session, knowing that the plow, down dogs, and a warrior pose or two will probably help.
The yoga teacher takes one look at me and inquires, “Tough day?”
“I’m exhausted,” I admit.
“Perfect, since I planned on a more restorative practice today,” she responds.
I almost clap in delight. Restorative yoga is relaxing, quiet, with some twists and stretches, but little energy demanded. My main worry is that I won’t fall asleep during Shavasana (also known as Corpse Pose).
Sure enough, I walk out of class an hour later, a new woman. Still tired, but in a restful way. I want to curl up at home on the deck and just commune with the hummingbirds.
But first I stop at the neighboring grocery store to buy some fish and veggies for dinner.
As I approach the vegetable department, wondering if I should splurge on a baked potato instead of wild rice, an onion falls at my feet.
Huh. Weird, since no one else is nearby.
After grabbing a spud, I walk past the potato shelf to retrieve the onion, but when I lightly place the brown bulb back on the shelf, another onion jumps out and totters to the floor.
I laugh, kind of, pick it up, and gently place it with the others.
But a third onion drops out of its space and falls, yup, directly in front of my feet.
Whoa, this is a pain.
I oh so slowly walk away from the misbehaving onions, and turn to my right to check out the greener (more friendly) vegetables. Two feet away from me, on the other side of the onion aisle, a bunch of parsley springs out of its snug space and drops to the floor.
NO ONE else is around.
I wonder if this is a candid camera moment. You know, suddenly a photographer and narrator pop out of the woodwork and shout, “Surprise! You’re on Reality TV!”
But no, I’m still alone, with the moving, jumping, laughing vegetables.
I rush away, noting a red pepper swaying with its ilk and, yup, falling as I run toward the seafood department.
“Salmon, now!” I whisper, whipping out my purse and finishing the deal before the lobsters, clams, and shrimp come after me.
Halfway to the car, I hear a thud on the blacktop and trip over something. The potato, stored in the bag with my fish, has somehow escaped the confines of my purse.
I run, not walk, back to the yoga studio. “Oh my god, what is happening?” I yell, yogic peace now dismantled.
After relating my story, the teacher just smiles.
“I told you that restorative yoga can expand your energy,” she explains peacefully.
Whaa? I don’t remember her saying that. I was too busy sighing while lying on the floor with my knees facing one way, my arms and shoulders the other.
“We are all energy. Right now you have a load of energy buzzing all around you, from your practice. The energy of other living things is just responding. Everything is gravitating toward you, reaching out, sort of like two magnets pulling together.”
I suddenly feel powerful.
I have energy magnetism!!
And I LIKE it!
I leave the studio, feet barely touching the ground, holding my car keys tightly, wondering what I might next attract.
I know one thing – I’m going to keep on expanding my energy, but I might avoid the grocery store from now on after my restorative “workouts.”