Hi Reader,

Last night, while I was teaching yoga, I found myself getting a little lost in the teaching.

There weren't too many students, so I was able to bring them to the rope wall and spend more time with the standing poses. We were working on lengthening the spine, creating space along the sides of the rib cage, and opening the chest and upper back.

At some point, as I stood there explaining the poses, I realized I had entered an almost meditative state. The words and directions seemed to be coming through me rather than requiring much thought. I even said something about it to the class. The students smiled and nodded.

It was a lovely way to be with people.

Earlier that day in San Francisco, I had met for tea with a woman who had practiced prenatal yoga with me during both of our pregnancies. Our children are now in college or graduating, and we probably hadn't seen each other in more than ten years.

We talked for a long time about where our lives had taken us, and eventually we started talking about swimming.

She has been swimming three times a week since she was pregnant. I swam competitively from the time I was six until I was sixteen, so I've swum a lot of laps in my life. By the time I was a teenager, we would warm up with 60 laps.

She said something that stayed with me. She thinks lap swimming is a form of meditation, even a kind of yoga, in part because you have to continually pay attention to your breath.

Of course.

I had thought about swimming this way before, but not quite about what all those years of swimming may have given me.

Long before I knew anything about yoga, Ayurveda, pranayama or meditation, I was spending hours moving my body back and forth through water, breathing in a rhythm, over and over again.

Perhaps some of the practices that sustain us later in life begin much earlier than we realize.

Swimming. Walking. Gardening. Cooking. Knitting. Painting. Standing at the kitchen counter making the same food your mother or grandmother made.

There are things we do with our bodies that teach us concentration, rhythm, patience and breath.

Sometimes we understand what they were giving us only much later.

Before I go…

I'll be leaving September 13 for several weeks away—first Paris for my daughter's art school graduation, and then India for three weeks of study and travel with the California College of Ayurveda.

Before I leave, I've opened some time for free 15-minute calls between now and September 12.

If you've been wondering whether Ayurveda might help you with something you're experiencing—or you've been meaning to talk with me but haven't gotten around to it—this is a good time.

It's a light, stress-free conversation. You don't need to prepare anything. We can simply talk about what's going on and whether Ayurveda might be useful.

Warmly,

Marisa