Oh, Savasana. How you punctuate a yoga practice with ease and release. How you fill the room with space and safety, calling us to let go. How you set the stage, so to speak, for the larger message of yoga to sink into our cells. Oh, Savasana. Thank you for insisting we encounter you each and every time we come to our mats.

Savasana, we come to you in every possible state — fatigued, refreshed, limber, healing, seeking, emotional, insecure, arrogant — yet you [eventually] manage to peel these layers away. Though our to-do lists often call us away from you far sooner than we should go, the seeds you plant within our hearts then begin to grow.

Savasana, as I lay myself down in a gesture of release, my mind takes longer to follow. My limbs fall out, my eyes fall soft, and even my tongue lets go. But the breath pulls deep, as my practice required; it sets a gradual slow to the ebb and flow. The mind follows in suite. Deepening in, the thoughts start to fade and soon, it is only I. The i falls away, the room even so, and I die in the most beautiful way.

We all share inside a small spark of divine, whatever divine means to you. This piece of me I share with you, and with her, and with him, and with all. This simple truth lets our judgments seem silly, and our hearts lead the way. May we find a small glimpse of the light inside each of us that is shared with everything else.

Oh, Savasana, there are times when the clock urges me away from you. But especially these times are when I need you the most. The perspective you give is much broader than time. Certainly five minutes mean nothing when viewing from a larger scope. May we remember this lesson the next time on the mat, and then the next times after that. For Savasana may bring, if you let it, the taste of what it really means to let it all go.