Alone We Are Content To Be Together Again

Inside looking out

I prepare to enter

the practice.

Lighting a candle

I place it on the altar.

With hands clasped together

I bow to the Goddess

as I sit

in this ritual space.

I place the sacred sage

gifted from the earth

in the clam shell

we gathered

from the shore.

Strike the match

ignite the smudge.

Smoke floats.

Cupping my hands

I inhale a woody scent

then waft the greyish

exhalation

of the sage

into corners

of the quiet room.

Alone

I drop inside

savor stillness

breathe the scent

and quiet coolness as

I hear the steady beating

of my heart.

I reach out

to adjust my screen.

Arrange a plant tastefully

in the background.

Roll out my mat

sit into the space

in preparation

for the session.

The call begins

interrupting

the stillness

The smiles of the collective

a glimpse of their spaces

unique as they are.

We share.

There is laughter

and sadness in the voices

loneliness for some,

a sense of longing

and of loss.

We acknowledge

the absence

of the gathering.

Then energy shifts

and movement begins.

The leader takes charge

the practice begins

with chanting and breath

we are here again.

Alone but together.

Together but alone.

The movements in my space

are reflected by

the movements of the others

are our bodies remember

and release.

We listen to instructions

and meet them with reflection

we are in a communion of souls.

A familiar circle of friendship

routine reestablished

in the magic of a screen.

Possibilities without

stillness within.

As we move together,

we move alone.

Together but alone.

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This story also appears on Medium by Tree Langdon, the author.