Yoga class this evening. This makes my people nervous.
No, I don’t believe that some crazed Hindu god owns the lotus pose, any more than I believe Darwin owns the bones of the brachiosaur. It’s a little better if I don’t use the Sanskrit terms, but only a little. In the end, most Christians in the pew are actually among those who, had they lived in Corinth, would have been sure that meat consecrated to idols actually was imbedded with demons.
On the contrary: Jesus is lord. Because He is lord, there are no others, and so there is only one Owner of it all: down-dog and crane and warrior, then, to the end. “No mind” is just to pause for the next significant event, which, if I’m remembering correctly, will be the trumpet of God, when the Owner serves a search warrant on the world.
I sit. Listen to the silence of the night sky, silence creeping into my muscles, silence calls to silence: hold. Hold. Hold. Know the thread of your breath inside the long angel inhalation before reveille.
(revised, from September 2010)