Free From Comfortable Distances by Jodi Weiss

following the chant, she saw her
mother bowing down to the shrine in their living room as she did each night,
singing in Sanskrit as she counted her mala beads, her eyes closed, her head
moving to melody coming out of her, as if she were in a trance.
    The teacher was asking
them to make their way onto their hands and knees to start warming up their
spines. This was the part of class that Tess loved most: everything in her full
of anticipation, and a good fear, as if she were about to climb up a steep
ladder from which she’d dive through the air and float to a safe landing. It
was the moment of all-potential, when anything was possible: she could fall or
fly, depending on how light and free she was.
    In the yoga room, she was
able to lose herself. Each time a thought about work popped up, the teacher’s
voice, instructing them into the next pose, brought her back to the moment.
There was no time to think in yoga: it was all execution. One pose blended into
the next so that time and space didn’t exist, just movement and feeling, like
floating through water.
    When they reached the end
of the class, Tess willed herself up into a backbend, full wheel, her elbows
shaking, her feet unsteady below her. She felt as if she may break in two. Her
breath became short and shallow, so that when the teacher approached her, she
was about to let go and plop back down onto the mat, until the teacher loosened
up her shoulders, massaging them, and holding onto Tess’s hips, instructed her
to bring her feet closer together and to press her hips up to the ceiling, open
up her chest, let her heart breath. Tess was about to say, stop, let go ,
and collapse, until all at once, something in her opened up, a small splitting
feeling, and with her legs closer together, her hips rising, she felt as if her
heart was being freed from a web that had been confining it. The teacher held
her loosely round the waist as Tess eased down onto the mat. The teacher
instructed her to bring her knees to her chest to release her back, and she
pressed gently on Tess’s shins, so that Tess was able to feel her lower spine
ground. Tess sighed. For a moment, she worried that she would fart and she
froze, and then the moment passed and she was letting go again. It felt nice to
massage her spine against the hardwood floor. Then, after all of her hard work
and exertion, the teacher led them into the final pose, shavassana—literally,
dead-corpse pose. Tess let the ground beneath her cradle her, and in a few
moments, she was out cold. She didn’t wake up until the class was sitting
cross-legged, eyes closed, chanting “Om.”
    With the final Om, Tess
rolled over on her right side, rest there a few minutes, and then sat up. She
folded up her mat slowly, methodically. No thoughts went through her head, just
an airy, peaceful feeling as if she was drifting through a cloud.
    The lobby was chaotic and
noisy as it always was after class. It reminded Tess of being behind the scenes
at a Broadway play before the curtain was about to rise, with everyone
scrambling to change their clothes before the next scene. Tess had learned to
hang back from the activity for a few moments if she didn’t want to be robbed
of the effects of the class.
    The teacher tapped Tess
on the shoulder.
    “Nice class,” she said. “You’ve
made a lot of progress in a short time,” the teacher said. “How many classes
has this been for you?”
    “Oh, thank you. I think
it’s been five or six classes.”
    “You’re definitely a
natural.”
    “Thanks,” Tess said. “I
feel great. If I could, I would be here every day.”
    “You can be.”
    “Oh, no. Not with my work
schedule.”
    “Well, in the end, it’s
you that counts, not work.”
    “I own my business,” Tess
said. “Me and my work are one and the same.”
    “That’s what I used to
say,” the teacher said. “I was a corporate slave—I worked as a designer in the
publishing industry. I loved my career, never thought I’d leave