Living in the French countryside for a week — every meal outdoors, every morning on a pilates mat under an open sky — we were surrounded by birdsong. Some of it was familiar, some of it completely new to me, and all of it was sweet and strangely reassuring. Nothing seemed capable of ruffling those birds, and it felt like an invitation to follow their lead.
We practiced pilates by the pool most mornings with Nina, my instructor from Charlottesville, who joined the trip. Practicing outside is such a different experience. Songbirds overhead, blue sky, no walls — my body was noticeably happier by day three, and I felt more grounded than I have in a long time.
Nina kept catching herself mid-cue: "reach to the ceiling —" then, glancing up, "reach to the sky." It happened often enough that it stuck. We're back in our regular studio at home now, and we catch ourselves still saying “reach to the sky”.
Remembering Provence, I breathe more deeply.
