"When I think of a temple, a 7'x3' block of space comes to mind..."

When I think of a temple, a 7'x3' block of space comes to mind. The caramel-colored hardwood floors, the screened windows transmitting early morning quiet, punctuated by the language of neighborhood animals, unknowable yet familiar, as comforting as the light sweat that kisses my brow and back as I conclude my sun salutations. I used to beg of technology to fill that little space with tempos and rhythms, Hare krishnas and ancient psalms, but now I find an unmatched music in my breath. As I move, as I flow from one posture to the next, I can feel the rest of my day also smoothing out before me. Though I do not know what will happen, I have found my center, the sacred undulations of my diaphragm and lungs promising that I will be OK. That I may be filled with joy and acceptance at what happens, and learn from discomfort. This is my practice, and it's not exactly a beach in Bali, but inside it feels just about the same. My mat, my heat, my breath, and the living room space cleared just enough of its furniture - this is my Temple!