Style: Personal Sequence
Teacher: Self
Studio: Planet Earth

The sun rose at 5:51 am. At twenty past five my alarm was accompanied by a single thought: "this seemed like a better idea last night." Dragging myself out of bed in the pre-morning darkness I can't help but wonder if this is what normal people do with their free time. Slipping into some warm socks and sweatpants, zipping up a hoodie and finally pulling a hat snug down over my ears, I realize I might never know. Shrugging it off, I quietly pack my yoga bag and step out under the full moon.

Unrolling my mat across the grass I slip out of my shoes and get comfortable in wide-knee child's pose. I'm at the bank of the Rideau river and the chilled bite of pre-sunrise surrounds my perimeter, nipping at my toes and finger tips. Soon I can sense the coming of first light and I move into a series of sun salutations. Flowing through the familiar motions like they're second nature, a warmth begins to rise from within, flowing through my nervous system. I can see miniature crystal balls of morning dew clinging to the blades of grass. The birds begin to come alive, singing praise to a new day. As the sun rises in the sky my heart rises in my chest and fills my body with new light. I'm alone, absolutely alone. As the light continues to make its presence known I watch it shimmering across the river. My consciousness is reflected back on its glassy, undisturbed surface, blending with the hues of pink and rose that splash across the sky. There are no clouds whatsoever, only a blue expanse without beginning or end. Beyond that, the stars are slowly being hidden behind the atmosphere. The fire in the sky rises in front of me and the moon hangs behind me, slowly downplaying its presence and falling into a hibernation. Right now, everything coexists peacefully. I feel like the only human on the planet, given the honor of watching the birth of a new day. Moving through the ancient choreography I orbit with the planets and stars while remaining grounded in the earth.

Sitting at the shoreline of the river I move into a meditation. With a mantra to honour my potential I breathe in prana as it emanates from the planet. I start with some kapalabhati breathing and settle into my sanctuary, when all of a sudden I notice something strange. A sense of humour is rising up inside me, coming from the very center of the earth herself. Eventually I feel my lips involuntarily curl into a smile as the soft morning breeze caresses my cheek. Suddenly it's all funny. For the past two weeks I've been chained to a feeling of dread, a hopeless feeling of utter powerlessness. Just like that the heavy burden is lifted, disappearing as suddenly as it arrived. In this space everything seems at ease, unified. The planet is relaxed, unconcerned with its fate. It's simply in love. That nurturing energy is making its way into my bloodstream and bringing me back to life. I'm lighter now. I feel like I might float off my mat and out over the water, drifting in the invisible air currents, up and away. From this vantage point, my earthly stresses seems so unfounded, so unnatural. All I can do is laugh. So I do. The sound of my own voice reverberates off the empty world around me and then I stretch out on my mat. Looking up at the endless beyond, my gaze wanders over the inside of the sky. I'm alive. It's beautiful.

I'm grounded and I'm growing roots. They dig deep into the earth, through the soil, branching out and multiplying. I feel a direct connection to this planet, my home at the moment. I wonder what I was thinking as I wandered the outskirts of the Milky Way. What was I feeling as I passed the outer planets, drawn by the warmth of the sun. I remember falling in love with this place when I saw it rising in the distance. Approaching the pale blue teardrop circled by a lonely moon I couldn't help but notice how vulnerable it looked in the ice-cold void of outer space. Circling a few times, I made my way through the cloud cover and settled somewhere in North America, ready to wake up. Soon I would have no memory of my travel, no recollection of where I came from or who I was. Soon I would have an earthling identity that I would come to recognize as myself. A self-imposed amnesia would wipe the slate clean, erasing any knowledge of the universe, of life in the constellations, past present and future. Soon I would be tethered to a linear timeline, operating in the third dimension. My body, composed of the soil itself, would feel the effects of age and gravity. I would have time to play, time to cry and time to laugh. I would feel. Guided by five senses I would interact with my earth family. Eventually the elements that came together to hold me in place would begin to disperse, returning back to the earth once again, reuniting with the whole. I'll give back my shell and thank it for carrying me. Maybe I'll design a new experience at that point, a new life on earth. Or maybe I would take to the wing, returning to wherever I came from.

Eventually civilization makes itself visible. Jet streams start to cut across the sky, leaving white gashes as the city picks up momentum. At first the traffic in the distance sounds like ocean waves, tranquil and serene, washing up on shore. Soon I can differentiate the sounds of sirens and metal, concrete and exhaust. Taking it as my final curtain call, I thank the world deeply and sincerely. I made it through my own darkness and I'm back out under my own sun. I feel prepared to take on whatever comes, with ease and a sense of humor. Life loves me and I love it back just as much. The difficulties I'm facing have been diminished. They've lost their position at the head of the table, replaced by a happiness as pure as the elements of life. It's all good.