eggs

On Wednesdays my yoga group practices in a church parish house in Delaplane, Virginia.We trade off leading the practice and at the end Tom lead us in a few moments of meditation. I sat on my yoga block with legs folded and back pulled up straight, my arms hollowed like I held fragile eggshells in my arm pits. I lay my left hand inside my right and touched thumbs together making an oval shape. The oval image came back to me again and again. My breathing became a graceful strong egg filling my lungs with silence. Shivasina near the end of our hour is my favorite moment of relaxation. The silence and letting go of every muscle allows space for new images. The moments allow my brain to tumble and not think and I bring my mind back to the oval egg shape of hands, armpits and breath. In the space of shape solutions appear, there is no narrative or evolution. It is like all of a sudden I can see how the jigsaw puzzle pieces fit together magically.

I have started making a few pieces for the wood firing in the fall. The ovals of ideas move with my breath. It has been a week to follow intuition and draw on paper and clay. I start where I left off and trust the the next step will come. I moved my chair to the basement gallery space for cool air and the company of the last series of work. I stare at the sunlight and images of eggs that I photographed in March come to mind.They are nestled in gas fired bowls and the pale variation of colors circle in my mind.It is like each cycle of firing is an egg shaped Russian doll. One experience is held in the shape of the next idea, each step grows and shifts.

Yoga is learning to associate with the seer who resides beyond the language of the mind. ~ PantanjaliI