I picked up a copy of Time Magazine last night. I usually read internet sources, but occaisionally I’ll pick up a magazine for something. While I was carrying my basket around the store after midnight after work I spotted the cover of Time Magazine and on it was a beautiful woman in Yoga Rooster Pose. Christy Turlington is her name and she enthralled me. I like Yoga as well, though I am as flexible as a pine tree, but I like the tenets of the practice and I will sometimes incorporate some of the idea in my weight training. I can remember nights in the bar in Houston when I would be stressed out and I would tell the other bartender that I was going to the cooler. There I would sit down on a keg of beer, and begin focusing on my breathing. This usually helped a lot.
But my thoughts on the magazine were not on the history of Yoga or the practice of it… but instead on the picture of the woman. I loved her skin… the tones and the “realness” of it. I wanted to touch it and to feel it. The muscles were firm and toned and begged for a touch. But what also got my attention was the eyes and expression her face. I looked through the magazine and saw more pictures of Christy Turlington and all her pictures held the same expression. That expression was depth. I compare this to another model on another magazine’s cover. She is blonde and has washboard abs and is quite a sexpot with her form fitting clothing and large bust size. But her face… her eyes… there doesn’t appear to be any depth in her eyes. What is her mind like? What of her soul? Looking at her picture I am quick to conclude (perhaps unfairly) that one could get to know her in a day. When I turn my attention to the picture of Christy Turlington in her Yoga poses… it isn’t her beautiful body that stands out, it is what I perceive to be a great and deep soul within those eye, piercing and deep they are. The female form (the human form itself actually) is a wonder and I could spend hours just loving the beauty within it. But there is more to it than this. For if a person is no more deep than a pet’s water dish, then I lose interest in their mind and heart and their body is then just a body… just a sex object when there is nothing deeper. Yet with the person who has a deep soul, the body is an expression of that heart and soul and to touch the body is like talking with the soul, to converse with the mind is like caressing their skin.
I bought the magazine and brought it home. Looking into the eyes of this beautiful woman helped to get me going this morning and puts into the forefront of my mind that I can be better than I am… this very instant… that life is as rewarding and as beautiful as I make it.
My cat sits in my lap, we both near the window… and she is content and happy, and she occaisionally sees a bird fly by the window. She perks her ears up and then turns to look at me as if to say “did you see that bird?”. Yes… I saw the bird, I say to her, and she lays her head back down for a nap.