It is quiet--a blissful sanctuary after a day of noise and movement.

You slip out of your heels, feet firmly on the ground again.  Your toes wriggle out the kinks of the day, your ball and heel kiss the carpet.  You consider checking your email or reading, but your mind rebels against sitting at a desk, taking in more words. 

No.

Your body wants movement.  The deep pleasure of yoga asana that allows your body to unfurl, releasing the paperwork and student questions with each spinal twist, until your limbs, like petals, are loose, soft.

The silence is broken only by the click of your jewelry as you begin the task of removing your armor.  One by one each ring goes back into the jewelry box, each a piece of the day washed away from your skin; your earrings go next, taking with them the sound of the copy machine and sputtering coffee maker.  The war paint is last--off goes the mascara and blush that separates you the teacher from you the you.

But you are not quite ready for the mat.  You tend your plants. You chop up root vegetables and put them in the oven to roast.  You light a candle.  Each act, a simple ritual of letting go of the day and welcoming the evening.  Slowly, you begin to feel your mind drift away from lesson plans towards nothing in particular. 

It is at that moment that you finally turn to your mat.  Your home is fragrant with cumin and roasting vegetables.  Your body breathes a sign of relief to be out of the desk and onto the mat. 

You relish the inevitable finish to this transition--after grounding mind and body, releasing the wrinkles of the day--when you crawl into your favorite cozy pajamas, your soft second skin, to just be.