We play a game - a kind of "vogue" with yoga poses...
In the game, they walk/run/skip/dance around in a circle. And, when I say "freeze" they are to move into a yoga pose of their choice and hold it for three deep breaths. Then we begin again.
Cute, fun lil game, eh? - good practice and test of their knowledge of the yoga poses.
I haven't taught them for a while. Seems none of the parents have the cash, and the insurance companies are buckling down on what they will pay for...
I miss my kids terribly and was thinking about them this morning. Their faces. Their little quirkles. Their personalities. Their delicious hugs!
I imagine them running around in that circle...and remember their faces in the mirror as they gazed at themselves.
It didn't always go so well - not the fun and games one may imagine...
Oftentimes, it was quite a challenge for them...not the remembering the poses part. The part about choosing what they wanted to "be" next...a warrior? a tree? a lazy crocodile? a monkey swinging from the trees? And then, once the choice was made, they had to stay in it and breathe - even if they decided that wasn't the one they really wanted to be, which happened alot.
Almost certainly, there would be a meltdown or tantrum or someone who decided they didn't want to play anymore. Sometimes they would even lash out at one another in frustration.
My main "job" was to nudge, console, and remind them about the many underlying principles of this little game I had created for them. But mostly, I encouraged them to help one another through it - to work together as One - and hopefully help to develop their social and communication skills - which is, after all, the goal of therapy in this particular setting.
I remember saying things like:
"There is always another chance -
another choice...
Be still and silent.
Breathe.
Listen to the 'voice' inside your mind...
In just a moment you'll have the opportunity
to make another choice...
In every moment...
there is a chance for change."
Hmmm.
Quite an interesting thought to swirl around in your coffee on a snowy, Sunday morning...
