At the end of yoga you lie on the floor in shavasana, also known as “corpse pose,” though understandably they don’t call it that too often. You sink into the mat, they play relaxing music, and you’re supposed to just Be There.
I usually think about what I’m going to have for lunch.
I love yoga, the harder and more strenuous the better; but I don’t like chanting “Om” or all that stuff about being in the Present Moment.
I wasn’t always this way. I used to meditate every day; I used to lead a great guided meditation at the end of my “Personal Mastery” workshops. In my Celebrating Time book I would even write stuff like the only moment we can control is the one we’re in right now; the past is over and the future hasn’t happened yet. Practical tips like that.
Something happened, somewhere along the way; the same thing that made me so spiritually cynical.
Now, after what happened to my friend Barbara, I’m going to be even more careful in shavasana.
She remembers getting to yoga, and seeing the other people in the room. Then: nothing.
She apparently finished the class, somehow realized she couldn’t drive, and got driven home. Then, on the way to the hospital, she began waking up. “Where are we going?” over and over. “Did I finish yoga?” over and over.
She’s fine now. She remembers her self, her life, her work, her future, her partner, everything except that hour or so.
Transient global amnesia, it’s called. The perfect practice of the Present Moment.