Last evening, beat and sad,
I practised yoga front and centre of driving rain, erratic, jagged lightning, sheets of startling brightness and sky ripping spears, and thunder that shook the Boathouse and rattled the windows. As I moved smoothly through the postures one after another, a rainbow appeared, then another, and then, it seemed, the east was all rainbow or reflections of rainbow colour. The waves whipped up and reflected the rainbows in its foaming crests. Seagulls were lit, the sky became orange, yellow, pinkish, with pieces of blue. The greens, so lush, were deepened, made impossibly rich, with the change of lens.
In this place, I felt bathed, soothed, absolved from the labours of the day on my battered soul.
Each breath nourished me, and the power of my body surprised and delighted me. I was strong and steady, graceful, enlightened by colour and sound.
　
Sept. 12th: full moon
Beauty is abundant, and for me, gratitude.
That thick shiny lapping of the sea
Rolling over dark granite,
Sometimes the sunlight is an even sheen on the water,
Filtered through gentle cloud, or as diffuse sparkles.
I do my pranayama here, getting more focused with the technique,
Eventually, reluctantly, closing my eyes, as I had been instructed to do by my teacher,
I stay with the breath, long enough to feel – it is time. I want to open my eyes!
And then, there it is, beauty flooding me again. Ahhh!
