Seeing and Being Seen

I had an entirely different post in mind yesterday, a little lighthearted blurb about my yoga practice. In fact, I posted it, then unposted it. It's now in a metaphorical crumple on the floor of an imaginary writer's room.  It was decent writing, if I do say so myself, but my why for writing it was unclear. I wrote about my early morning yoga practice, feeling myself move into a new rhythm, adapting to a new time and space. I wrote about leaving my house at ungodly hours, welcomed only by the Cheshire Cat grin of a moon, thinning to the faintest sliver each morning, soon to disappear completely. Orion was there, too, spinning a cartwheel for me, acting as the sole witness and cheerleader of my commitment to a practice that heals my body and mind. It's the idea of the witness that seems more relevant today and connects to my personal experience of yoga and relationships to others and the world. I swear Orion was winking, saying, "I see you. I know you." That's good enough, isn't it, just to see and be seen? It's how we lift each other up in this wild place where there's enough dog eat dog already.