One Heart, Two Knees, One Season: What the Years Have Taught My Body

Practices of the mind and body have a way of knowing things the thinking mind cannot quite reach. What I know most clearly is how I feel after I move — when the outside and inside have found each other again, when prana has been given room to flow in rhythm with the form, the breath, the moment. The mind will wander to a thousand things. It always does. And still, I return, over and over.

The summer sun is generous and relentless. It shines bright, carries warmth, and dries everything it touches — the earth, the air, the skin. My aging body has made its preferences known: it does not love the dry, which in time becomes rough, tight, depleted. And so I have learned to listen more carefully — not only to what this body needs at this age and stage, but to what the season itself is asking.