- “Focus on the core!” he said.
His voice reverberated with passion knocking her head down on a promising soft yoga mat on the floor.
- “Close your eyes and focus on the core!”
She doesn’t understand what he means by that. Gosh..these people! It’s her first class. Couldn’t they’ve provided a list of terminology or a what-to-expect document for new joiners? What’s the core? Whose core? Or which core?
- “Focus on your core.”
Does she have one? Where would that be? She tried to relax her body on the matt, loosening up her stretched legs and letting her hands fall lifelessly beside her. The earth seemed to pull her down in a luscious hug.
It felt good to just give in to the palpable gravitating force. She was taken on a very soothing journey through a rotational ritual. No resistance. Just surrender.. surrender to the power of an infinite constant uncontrollable movement.
The sensation was overpowering; her abdomen was pulled back tighter, and a new level of awareness was being born. She saw her mind flowing like a bee towards a flower, towards the middle of her stomach. Her sensitivity was heightened and her blood circulation revolved around this specific part of her body like worshipers around the worshiped, like planets around the sun, like creation around the source of existence, around the centre, around the core.
That’s the core then!
Her right-hand moved slowly exploring the way to her belly button. When one finger found the sacred depression in her stomach, her entire palm unconsciously nestled over it.
- “Breathe, inhale, and focus on the core.”
The voice of the trainer still reached her like inspiration from a parallel world. What’s happening under her hand was the only thing she could think of at that moment. While her hand went up and down slowly with her inflating and deflating belly, the action magnified enough to swallow her consciousness. The rhythm of breathing became all that mattered.
People around her laid hopelessly on their mats, striving for balance, serenity, stability or peace of mind, in an utterly tipped-off world running around with maximum speed on its edge, but the rhythm of breathing became all that mattered for her.
Where her palm is resting now, has become genuinely the centre of all existence as known to her at this particular moment. She is fully absorbed in the metrical movement of her hand over the core, rising with each deep breath gently up and falling with each exhale down. Her breathing tempo was life in its pure essence. Inhaling was life going up, full of hope and potential, exhaling was life in its down moments when one has to let go of the possibilities , sadly but with grace and acceptance, because the rhythm is unstoppable.
Her core was continuously filling up with new chances with every new breath in. Yet , her core had the necessary wisdom to surrender to the power of the universe and let go with each breath down ; Natural law of life; no fight, just flowing with the earth beneath and our intuition.
Is that what her core wants?
The core doesn’t want to hear of conflict, of humanity dispensing off its compassion and understanding, or of men trying to be gods. The core doesn’t want to bear a sense of guilt and unexplained feeling of frustration as if it has left another core with a load of unfulfilled rightful expectations.
The core just wants to float easily over life, no struggles, just acceptance.