I wish that I had a separate room to practice yoga. A private space, where I could shut the world out to retreat inward. Someday. I’m making a mental note for when I purchase my first house …
Until then, I unroll my mat in a space squeezed between my kitchen, living area and home office. It’s a little cramped. It gets a little drafty. It doesn’t face east.
But, it does face an “altar” of sorts — something I just realized tonight while snapping pictures for a teacher training homework assignment.
I practice in front of a built-in bookcase housing a mosaic of what’s important in my life: photos of family and friends, artifacts from astounding travel adventures, treasured books … and a gentle reminder scribbled on a piece of painted wood.
Of all the other spots in my loft-style condo where I could be placing my mat, this is where I place it for my personal practice. I didn’t plan it this way. It just happened organically.