No thought went into it. No logic or reason or plan. I just had to…needed to be there, head down.
I’d looked, read, listened, asked. Nothing. Nada. Lent came. Lent went. Nothing but cravings and doubts and what ifs.
The colours, the design..oranges, reds, calligraphic without words. The tassles. I wanted to see it worn. Craved the feel on my knees.
The relief. Sheer relief. Exhale – let it go. All of it.
Watch it float away to the rhythmn of the words.
And the colours..spnning now, coming up to meet me. Forehead connecting. Shoulders connecting. Knees and elbows too. No fluff between toes. Clean, really clean. Understanding the real meaning to cleanse.
Words I don’t quite understand, can’t even pronounce but can feel; in repetition, concentration, in ears warm from a scarf, in fingertips pushing me up. Not graceful, now. Inelegant practise of the most eloquent dance, and yet. The beauty. Simplicity.
This made sense. This felt right. I needed this. Not lent, not yoga, not wine. This. The repetition, the connection, meditation of my soul on the creator of the soul. Pause, reconnect. Be.
That mat, all the way from Medina, with its burnt colours and tassled edge, brought clarity to my world. Peace into my soul.
No hows, or whys, or whats: Just Be.