Tonight, I cried on my mat.
I was on the opposite side of the yoga studio that I usually practice on and there were more students than usual, and yet somehow my mat felt more like my private island than ever before.
Maybe it was losing my phone for the better part of my morning.
Maybe it was starting my day with emails instead of tea and candles.
Maybe it was finding out that my son had a tough day at daycare and wound up biting one of his friend’s fingers.
Maybe it’s that I can’t wear contacts anymore because every time I do, one of my eyes swells the next day – and today is the next day.
Maybe it’s that I was late to therapy.
Maybe it’s that I was too quick to say, “yes,” to another project.
Maybe it’s all of it. Or none of it.
I don’t know.
I don’t know why I cried on my mat, laying flat on my back, looking up at the emergency sprinkler and liking it’s shadow to two parents hugging with their little one happily sitting criss-cross applesauce on the ground, filling the space in between their knees.
All I know is that my cries were silent. My tears were effortless. And for about ninety minutes I sailed away to my own private island of release.
And for tonight – knowing that – feels like all I need to know.