Sometimes it’s less what we do than the space we create for doing it. And sometimes both are transformational in ways we can’t forsee when we begin.
In yoga, any given day’s asana practice may be more or less transitional. But showing up on the same mat to meet the supposedly same body, same self and finding its subtleties and changes, that consistency creates a sacred rhythm, a ribbon through time that in and of itself bestows meaning.
Mantra is like a yoga mat for my mental life. It’s the same series of sounds, focused on the same intent, with the same beads for the same number of repetitions each day. A few minutes. A window into eternity I can open each day.