It’s early morning. My body awoke all on its own. At first I tried to snag a few extra moments of sleep, but I think something in me knew today was a “get up before the sun” kind of morning. There’s something sacred and special about the early morning. So here I am, sitting on my couch with a hot cup of coffee. The windows to my living room are open so I’m greeted by the sweet sounds of birds. I can hear 3 distinct bird sounds, but I’m not quite sure what the bird names are. Nevertheless, this is one of my happiest places. Sweet and pure.
Yesterday, I had the wonderful opportunity to go on a mini “yoga retreat” with some friends. It was about a hour long drive to the destination, where we landed at a nature center. The yoga took place in a forest. Our group of 18 yogis laid out our mats one by one. And with each unrolled mat, there’s a part of our hearts that also seems to unravel onto the forest floor. How can you not when you’re in such a sacred space in the woods? We’re in a unique nook in the woods because there’s an opening with flat ground, just enough for us yogis, but it’s in the heart of a forest. The trees are long and tall. And when you look up to the sky, depending on which angle you’re at, the tree branches at the top make a heart shape and beyond the heart-shape opening, is pure sky. Sometimes clouds pass by, but sometimes it’s a pristine blue abyss with an effervescent gleam of light shimmering through.
We introduce ourselves one by one and share what brought us to “yoga in the pines.” Introductions are not my favorite and I’ve never felt like I’m any good at them, so this is by far my least favorite part. Thankfully it’s over with right at the beginning. Then class begins. We start on our backs with a grounding meditation. Looking up to the sky above, feeling held by the earth below. Ahhh… We gently get into some more movement and warrior poses and throughout the playful and intuitive sequence, our instructor reads a few phrases from an excerpt written by Eckhart Tolle (Note: if you’re not familiar with himI recommend checking him out).
Something I’ve always noticed is how the birdsong is so crystal clear and pure in the woods. It’s like the difference between city air and mountain air. There’s a poignancy about it. About 45 minutes into the practice we are guided to take a “walking meditation” throughout the woods. There are some trails to follow, but I prefer letting the forest and my curiosity be my guide. I’m walking along the forest floor, hearing the crunch of pine cones and leaves beneath my feet. I find myself looking up at the sky with the light of the sun streaming through the treetop branches. Radiant. I lean up against a tree and just stare up above, as though I’ve never seen life from this perspective. Instinctively, my eyes drift downward so my gaze is just in front of me. I notice the gentle sway of the leaves on a tree a few feet in front of me.
Looking at this tree in I notice that I don’t feel any breeze on my own skin yet this gentle, unassuming tree’s leaves are flowing softly. I notice this is one of the only trees that’s swaying in the wind. I think to myself: this tree has heightened sensitivity.
Perhaps this is an odd instinct, but I saw myself in the tree.
You see, I’m a very sensitive person, but when I say “sensitive” I do not mean “takes everything personally.” In this sense of the word, I mean I am deeply impacted by my environment, the people around me, their energy and emotions, and all of the sounds and stimulation. In other words: I have highly attuned “senses.” When I’m taking good care of myself, this “sensitivity” can be like a superpower; I’m aware, creative, attentive. However, when I’m not sleeping well at night or dealing with excessive stress in my own life, it feels like a giant windstorm inside.
I see this delicate tree swaying. Her trunk, though also small and delicate compared to the big surrounding pine trees, is steady and strong. Yet her leaves ruffle in the wind. Though she is small, she is mighty. I see myself. Do you see you?
We are often shamed out of our sensitivity as kids. It’s considered weakness in our society. Or if not a weakness, at least a nuisance. “She’s just sensitive.” However, if you think about it, being sensitive is about being highly connected to our senses and the opposite of sensitive by definition is not “strong” (or, dare I joke, “AWESOME”)…the antonym is “insensitive, unresponsive, impervious.” No thank you!
I hear the gentle sound of a bell, which is our signal to mindfully wander ourselves back to our mats. I feel changed by the experience of the sun streaming through the treetops and the sweet sway of the little tree in front of me. I feel present, alive and restored. A sense of healing within.
Soon after being called back to our mats, we make our way on to our backs to finish with some restorative movements. Sky above, earth below, stillness within. We lay on our backs in “savasana”, or as our instructor called it, a “yoga nap.”
After we finish with savasana and namaste, I open my eyers and look around. I can’t help but notice the collective energy of the groupt: peaceful, rested, grounded. In one word: sensitized. There’s a settledness but also an aliveness. Whether we know it or not, we are all like the little tree, who swayed in the wind, and there’s a magic in connecting with our inherent sensitivity.
Stay soft. Stay sensitized.
Rooted below, standing tall, beautifully and softly caressed by the gentle wind.
Keep taking care of you.