Sometimes in Savasana (corpse), my little monkey brain takes over and starts thinking about what to have for lunch, or which day we should give the dog his heartworm pill, or whether we are out of milk, or any number of other bits of brain flotsam.
Sometimes I fall asleep, much as I’d prefer not to. I certainly hope I don’t snore when I do this in class. In one class a few years ago one student always always always fell asleep and snored loudly. I tried hard to avoid being next to him when it came time for Savasana. It seemed rude to move away. The snoring was horribly distracting. My old teacher Margaret used to say, when things were loud out in the alley, “Just pretend you’re in India.” Apparently if you go do yoga at the Iyengar Center in Pune you hear all sorts of street noise, honking, yelling, people selling things, etc. Snoring? I don’t know.
Sometimes I don’t think about anything except my breath, and that’s good.
One day last week I thought about my breath, and how my breath is the same as everybody’s breath. We’re all breathing one breath. The parallel is the ocean. We have names for different oceans, but it’s all one ocean. Whoosh.