It was cold and quiet outside, but the studio was a little warmer. I entered quietly - there were already 3 people there ahead of me - and put my bag down, went over into the apartment next door and changed into my yoga clothes.
The studio was all gentle light, warmth, and the slight smell of incense. I rolled out my mat, gently opened my journal and my notebook, and started scribbling my thoughts.
No one really spoke, unless we whispered. It was a nice feeling.
More people drifted in for the Ashtanga class, most of them were beginners, and some of them I recognized from my favorite natural foods store in Lake Placid.
And it was a wonderful class, and I stayed in the back and practiced along with everybody, taking care not to aggravate the pain in my left hip.
And I felt safe. And strong. At one point, it felt like I was moving so effortlessly, I thought I must have been doing something wrong.
It's why I love going to the studio for a practice, even if I'm in there by myself. I'm there, I'm present, and I'm breathing.
There's a sweetness in that sense of belonging.
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