The mist that settled in the lower field just before sundown yesterday is a softly dispersed silvery fog this morning. It lifts and clears as the day warms.
Also this morning, a cluster of pale coral flowers has opened on the amaryllis in my kitchen's south window - a welcome follow-up to the one that greeted us just over a month ago on winter solstice.
Discernibly longer daylight hours are encouraging, as is the ending of six months of study. Endings beget beginnings, beginnings beget change, adaptation, expansion.
For me the most important change has been that of habits. I now have a focused daily home practice and am, one by one, developing an awareness of the yamas and niyamas. These shifts authenticate an image that came to me during the first class, when asked what I hoped for in my yoga teacher training program - it was the image of an opening flower.
Yoga is a spiritual practice. One that grows, unfurling as each breath nourishes the various aspects of being.
Yoga is a physical discipline. It makes the body feel stronger with each day that it is practiced.
Yoga is hard. It demands attention, it challenges, it reveals.
Yoga is easy. It opens and rewards, it brings a rainbow of awareness, creates warmth, adds smiles, fosters a sense of calm.
The mist lifts. The flower blossoms. Slowly, but surely.

Note: vRddhi (growth) is not one of the yamas.