Let it fall
Every year at least one breakable item in my kitchen meets its end. The cause of death is usually a fall to the kitchen floor, and I am usually the perpetrator. One morning recently, before leaving the house to teach a yoga class, my elbow grazed the handle of a glass mug. So began its descent to a crash.
Thankfully, the mug was inexpensive, and there was no sentimental value attached to it. I placed the larger chunks of glass in a paper bag and swept the smaller parts into a dustpan. I had plenty of time before class and took my time recovering pieces from the fall. I got on my hands and knees. My eyes scanned the kitchen floor slowly, in search of delicate slices of glass. I ran my fingers over the tiles' grout, waiting for a pierce.
The yoga class that I'd planned for that day focused on grounding and balancing. As we built our way into Warrior III, a pose that requires standing on one foot at a time, I watched the students shake and waver. I thought of how desperately they were trying not to fall. I thought of how desperately I did not want for them to fall. They reached for nearby walls and quickly put the other foot down to avoid tumbles. I reminded them to breathe, noticing the strain on faces. Sometimes we're so busy fighting the falls of life that we neglect what we need most.
