OPEN FOR APOCALYPSE
by Sandra Bark
The room was full of people, of expectation, of anticipation. The bright mats were laid down end-to-end. Bodies shifted and slid as person after person slipped into the room.
We could have been in line getting batteries or online getting information. Instead, we were on the mat, getting something else. A touchstone for normal in a not-so-normal day. A way to give the finger to the incoming weather patterns. A moment to move our bodies before we were stuck in the living room for days with our remote controls, our bags of chips, our stacks of books.
Angela opened the class by noting the excitement and the anxiety that hovered in the room, humming louder than the air conditioners. She invited us to let ourselves be there since we were there. She invited the tumultuous nature of the universe into the room with us instead of trying to shut it out.
It was not shut-out-able, anyways. The energy was electric. The windows were open. We could hear the rain start. We could hear it stop.
The humidity hung so thick that when you reached forward into Warrior Three, it almost felt like you were swimming.
The storms gathered. We stood like mountains. We sparkled like fireflies. We curled up like children.
After all, if the apocalypse is coming, you might as well get a practice in before it gets here.