Mountain Pose

I stand, firm in my roots. I am grounded straight through to the center of the earth. I rise strong, barely perceptible, small atoms stacked firmly on top of one another, each a necessary particle: serving as both the foundation and all of the additions. I reach out to the energy that moves high in the atmosphere above me. I am.

For most of my life, I longed to be seen. As the youngest of three, and the only girl, I could easily embrace my invisibility, but that habit followed me out into the world. It became easier to move stealthily among others than to risk being discovered as a fraud. I knew I was different, but I blended in because I wasn’t sure if that difference was good or bad. I didn’t stand out because I was unremarkable.

Then, for a period of time, I craved recognition. I stepped forward, asserted myself, allowed the better parts of me to emerge, softly considering that maybe I was the right one at the right time to be doing the necessary thing that needed to be done. I gathered titles and accolades and even a few awards. I was visible and I almost believed the narrative I was constructing.

Now, as I stand barefoot on my mat, I am strong. No one sees me. No one has to validate. No one has to bear witness. From the outside, I am just standing. Still. It is this that I want to take with me out into the world. This quiet, strong affirmation that I am wholly and completely as strong as I need to be, located precisely where I am supposed to be, with all of the potential ahead of me built from the wisdom I have gathered.