I’m a normal American Mom. I drop my son at school, hurry to yoga class, swap kids stories with the bank teller, and destroy the Earth.
I wait in the school pick up line with the A/C running. I rest my head and close my eyes and an image comes to mind. It’s been haunting me, accompanying me wherever I go. It’s a bird, oil covered and struggling in the surf. The waves crash over him, his tar soaked wings are powerless. He suffocates. I open my eyes and shake the image away.
The Yoga Sutras say the most difficult task is training the mind. Yoga teaches us to observe thoughts, note if they serve us, and release them. But as much as I try, I can’t release this haunting imagery.
My son jumps into the back seat and tells me about his day on our drive to the grocery store. I search the trunk for my re-useable bags, wipe down my shopping cart until it is 99.9% germ free, and roll into the produce section.
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