Writings on dirt, part 1

I view yoga through the lense of inquiry and my practice is deeply connected to and interwoven with nature. I’ve been prompted this week to write a piece on dirt in 200 words or under, so I thought I’d share it here. I love a short yet potent challenge! Enjoy.

In one swift scoop I brush dust into the pan. Breadcrumbs of ancient civilizations scattered about my kitchen floor. Bone, hair, nails shaved and shaped into tiny specs of dirt. They trail the room as a tale of memories devoured by time, surviving as grime.

It rained today. Soil, the root of sole, receives the shape of my foot; a disheveled imprint. The moist ground molds and holds all in its tender embrace. No step too deep, fast, or wide. Some wash away and some stay yet all will be equally levelled one day.

My toe greets the textures of earth and rather than bowing to the foot of the guru she pricks me to remember my place. I trace one hand upon her, Namaste! The soft green hairs of her muddy palm rise to meet mine in prayer. Or a high five.

I wiggle in the dirt. Snow angels get all the hype. Dirt, the devil. I love Savasana. It’s humbling down here. It’s a blessing to know pain in old age. Less attached to this body in death. Giving it up is the receiving. The earth receives me in all my messiness and gives herself unconditionally. Will I?