I went into the studio Sunday noon and laid my mat in a favorite place beneath the skylight tight to the front mirror. I like the way the rays highlight my poses. All the better still if the sun steaming in makes me hotter. Though the room was plenty hot and humid. Well past 100 degrees, topping 40% moisture. I was cloaked in sweat before completing my pranyama warm-up.
Next thing I recall with certainty was laying savasana in a shallow pool of my own warm water. An hour passed. My body moved through the 26 Bikram poses and CorePower flows. I breathed regular and hard. At times my mind spun fast. A knotty schedule problem bore down on me during eagle, pressing my thighs and elbows tighter than usual, etching the conflicts of the upcoming week into my brain like a 6H pencil. Other times my mind went blank. How else to explain the hour that evaporated with my sweat?
It wasn’t a stellar class in terms of form – I recall falling out of some balances. But it was intense in focus. The light, the mirror inches from my hands, every other body receding from my perspective. I can’t remember it all, which means it was great yoga.