Class started off slow. Instead of sitting cross-legged on our mats, hands resting palms-up on our knees, we rolled up blankets and placed them — lengthwise — beneath our backs. We stretched out, our heads propped up on blocks, our arms flung out to our sides, our eyes closed. We concentrated on the rise and fall of our stomachs. Our chests.
After coming under the gentle spell of our own breath, we rocked forward onto all fours, and then leaned back into child’s pose. Then we slid forward onto our stomachs, where we were told to stretch our arms out above us and rest our foreheads on the floor.
That’s when I felt the tears burning behind my eyelids. They were so sudden, they took me by surprise. I pressed my forehead and nose into my mat, hard. I rocked my head from side to side, allowing my hair to fall around my face. [Read more…]
When my literary agent first offered me representation the other week, I tried to play it cool. I told her I was thrilled she was so into my book idea. I told her I’d have to touch base with another agent who also had my full proposal. Then I hung up the phone, my hands shaking, and started to cry.
