On Gratitude: Trikonasana & the Dyson vacuum cleaner

Arctic winds are breezing across Manhattan, so I decided not to go out to the gym. Instead I rolled out my yoga mat and went into my practice. Within a few moments, as my muscles warmed, stretched and opened, I was asking myself, “Why don’t I do this every day?”

It’s such a pleasure to feel myself grounding deeply into my body, to sense the fabric whole. This, even when my hip flexors complain and my hamstrings ache. It’s a sweet ache. Another ten minutes and the ache merges into my breath, and it’s all one thing: me, the practice, the pain, the warmth, tension flexing into motion, into resonance. After forty-five minutes and a delicious shavasana, corpse pose, I’m another Traci. A better one.

And I love my Dyson vacuum cleaner. I love what it represents: individual inventiveness. And it works good, too.

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