John and I took an impromptu trip to Sesquicentennial State Park on Tuesday afternoon. It had been a stressful morning full of running errands and dealing with some business issues, so we decided spur-of-the-moment that we needed to be outside in the soothing arms of Mother Nature. As always, she delivered and fed our souls in a way that few other things can.
It was already HOT outside when we arrived. We weren't as prepared to hike as we normally would be... no backpack full of trail maps, water and snacks. We simply parked the car and walked to the lake.
Gazing out at the water, geese, canoes, lily pads and trees, we almost immediately began to feel the stress of the past few hours slowly start to dissolve. We walked slowly around the edge of the lake and found ourselves on a trail marked by white blazes.
We walked and talked and followed the white blazes in a carefree way not really knowing how long the trail would go for or even what our destination would be. I remarked to John that it was nice not knowing where we were going or how long it would take to get there. "It's kind of like Yin Yoga," he replied. We walked along in silence for a bit and I thought about how true his statement was.
In a nutshell, Yin Yoga (originally called "Taoist Yoga) is an extremely beneficial and balancing practice.
"Each of us had the right to speak of his coastline, his mountains, his deserts, none of which conforms to those of another. Individually we are obligated to make a map of our own homeland, our own meadow. We carry engraved in our hearts the map of the world as we know it. Gazing at the map, I begin to see a portrait of myself. All the diversity of the world is intimated on the parchment, even as this diversity is intimated within me. An aura of remoteness hovers about its contours, as it does about my head, clarifying what I see. Both map and myself cling to the invisibility of what we represent. Nor is the tension between us that of myself and it, but of the merging of these. The map and myself are the same." (James Cowan, A Mapmakers Dream)