I missed posting on Friday proper this week.
Now it’s Saturday, not Friday, but the house is quiet and I feel compelled to make my poetry post anyway…

This week I was doing yoga with my daughter’s 3rd grade class (those of you who’ve been reading for awhile know that this is one of my very most favorite things to do — weekly yoga with both girls’ classes).

It was a cool, blue morning.
We were on a flat spot of grassy lawn outside, stepping into warrior postures and the kids were all sort of shining.

Then, abruptly, there was screaming — a child — coming from behind a nearby portable. A couple of teachers and aids rushed by. My daughter’s teacher stepped away to see if help was needed and came back telling our kids they could help by staying focused on their yoga. The screaming continued. I asked the class to look up at me, to take a deep breath, to step into Warrior I on the other side.

And so they did.
We all did.

The child who was struggling was helped into his classroom where he apparently felt safe and calm.

And the other children on the grass in the cool blue held him in their breathing.

Where Everything is Music
by Rumi

Don’t worry about saving these songs!

And if one of our instruments breaks,

it doesn’t matter.

We have fallen into the place

where everything is music.

The strumming and the flute notes

rise into the atmosphere,

and even if the whole world’s harp

should burn up, there will still be

hidden instruments playing.

(Read the rest here…)

Namaste, friends…