Note: Although I don't consider this one of my tip-top efforts, it's a story that's been bugging me and causing my writer's block. It's in a much lighter, simpler style, a big contrast to my last upload. Hope you enjoy!
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"Lie on the floor and bring your knee up. Now twist your torso back—gently now—and let the back of your hand rest on the floor. Look up at the ceiling, close your eyes if you want to, and think about the fact that you are here. Lying on the floor, you are as close to the earth as it is possible to be indoors. Feel the energy of the planet rising up into you. Imagine your own energy reaching down, giving some of yourself back to the planet that nurtures us."
Lara relaxed into the solid wooden planks of the floor, cushioned lightly by the half-inch-thick layer of foam beneath her. She rarely closed her eyes during this pose, preferring to contemplate the swirling blue-blacks of the hand-painted sky on the ceiling. It was speckled with gold stars and hazy celestial clouds. After several months at that studio she had noticed there were subtle gears painted into the background, as if the artist were trying to communicate that the universe was contained in some colossal machine. Every time she studied it she saw some new detail, and she suspected the artist continually added to it over time.
The artist himself could be heard padding quietly around the studio, making small adjustments and suggestions to his students. He reached Lara, made a slight pushing movement on her hips, and shifted them into better alignment. She gave a little sigh as some tension she hadn't been aware of disappeared. For a moment, the instructor's face appeared above hers and they shared a smile before he moved on to the next person.
The face was a nice one. Slightly lined, but still very youthful, it held bright blue eyes and a dimple in the right cheek. It was a face Lara had come to know extremely well. It was the face of Jay, her yoga teacher of nearly eight years. She'd met him back in high school, when she'd signed up for his class at the community college to help stretch out her muscles from swimming. Every Monday and Friday afternoon she had biked across town and twisted her body into a pretzel for an hour or so. She'd been hooked ever since.
That was before Jay had gotten his own studio, when he was just starting out as a fresh-faced 22-year old college graduate, hoping to change the world by focusing the minds and bodies of his students. Lara had moved away for college, and during that time Jay had traveled and studied and worked hard to save up enough money to open his own studio. When Lara returned with a degree in English literature, a teaching credential, and a position at her own former high school, she had been disappointed not to see Jay's name on the community college schedule.
So she'd looked for a yoga studio that seemed friendly, and she had found Jay. He even remembered her, and she was thrilled to have found him again. Now at thirty, he seemed to be very much in his element as master of his own studio.
"Wonderful. Now slowly untwist yourself and lie flat on your back. Think calming thoughts. Cover yourself with your blanket if you get cold, and just relax. This time is for you, to refresh yourself after a long day. You deserve this time."
Jay's affirmations were never cheesy or fake. Like a minister, he often prepared a little each week with some theme in mind. He might read them a few quotes or ask them a question to ponder during the meditation. But just as often he spoke simply, from the heart. He always emphasized their health—physical and mental—and wholeness as human beings. It was touching. He was open with everyone about who he was inside, frank with his feelings, sensitive. He shared personal stories as if they were his friends—and really, those in his regular classes had frequently become friends. Lara loved him for it, like an older brother or uncle. Over the years, they had gotten to know each other well, developed a relationship as comfortable as a worn-in shoe.
"Lara, dear, it's always a pleasure," Jay said as Lara laced up her shoes after class.
"Likewise. Great session, as always."
"Glad you enjoyed it."
"Are we still on for Saturday morning?"
"I cleared my schedule for it."
"Fantastic. I have to run, but I'll see you then." Lara gave Jay a hug and dashed out of the studio.
Once a month or so, she scheduled a private session with Jay at his house out in the rural part of the county. It was a big property he'd inherited from his grandparents—grasslands, redwoods, horse stables, the whole shebang. If the weather was good, Jay would pick a good spot outside and they would hike or ride to it. If it was cold or rainy they'd stay in, using his private glass-walled yoga studio.
Lara would never have thought to ask, but Jay had suggested it once to his class. If any of his students were craving longer sessions, he would open his property up to small groups or singletons to get a more intense session. It cost about the same as a month of regular sessions, but to Lara it was worth it. Over time, Jay had waved away her offers of payment and she had started making post-workout meals for them to share instead.
It had turned into as much a therapy session as a yoga practice sometimes. Jay had counseled Lara through a series of bad relationships, never flinching even at personal topics. Occasionally he'd talk about himself, though the conversation rarely turned to his own love life—or, more usually, the lack thereof. Lara never understood why Jay didn't have many girlfriends, but she didn't pry. He didn't seem to be very comfortable talking about it.
Saturday morning was bright and cool as Lara drove out into the country to Jay's property. He'd left the gate open for her, as usual. She eased her sedan down the long driveway and found Jay on his porch with a teapot and two cups. He rose to give her a hug when she got out of the car. Warmth flooded her body, but she didn't analyze it. It was the comfort of seeing a friend.
"Would you like some tea before we go up?"
"Sure, thank you. How was your week?"
"Pretty relaxing. Hard not to be, when you do what I do."
"Good point. Do you ever get stressed?"
"Not really. Life is too short to worry. I just try to take care of myself—and others, of course. How was the rest of your week?"
"All right. Couple of kids were out sick most of it, so it was a quieter week than usual. I don't wish illness on anyone, of course, but sometimes the break is nice."
"Mmhmm," Jay intoned, sipping his tea. Lara looked down into her cup. He was watching her with those eyes, the gaze that seemed to reach deeply into her. It had never bothered her before. She had always felt that Jay's supreme attention to each of his students was part of what made him a good teacher. But now she wondered, just briefly, if there had been something she missed. She pushed her thoughts aside with a shake of her head. It was just...Jay's way.
At last they finished their tea and Jay led her around to the back of the house and on a short hike up the hill behind it. It wasn't somewhere she had been before, and immediately she wondered why. It was a fairly shady spot surrounded by tall redwoods, carpeted with soft grass. Across the clearing from the path was a wide gap in the trees through which a wide swath of bright blue sky and a slice of sparkling ocean shone. The fog had burned off, but it was still cool and quiet; only the light breeze rustling the trees and the chittering of birds disturbed the silence.
"Wow, it's beautiful up here," Lara said.
