Walking the dogs this morning, I look down and notice the impression of a pair of cottonwood leaves stamped into the sidewalk. The original leaves are long gone, but the shadow remains, pressed as they were into this ground, etched into this path for as long as this hard surface will last.
We are like that too, impressions of us will remain when we are gone, faint outlines where we pressed against the world.
This morning in yoga, I was in Warrior One pose–left leg out in front with knee bent, right leg stretched back behind me, feet firmly planted on the ground, both arms raised overhead and reaching back, palms touching, spine curving towards my hands and the wall behind me–and my yoga teacher said “Oh, look at how beautiful Jill’s shadow is against the wall!”
Not long after, on a walk with the dogs, I notice Dexter’s shadow on the ground. I think about how this is the truth of us, of life–we are beautiful and impermanent, both solid and shadow, our forms shifting relative to the light.
Open Space Practice, (AKA: A Thousand Shades of Gray) 