I just finished 3 full days of a yoga teacher training at Kripalu, part one of three total weekends, all which are online, but immersive. When I am in a training, retreat, or workshop, I am thrown into postures, meditations, inner work, and spiritual/self inquiry. The real world seems to sink away into the background, temporarily on hold until I return from my focused practice. The practice is equal parts attention, and letting go.

Of course, the world still exists around me - grocery store, pets, children (although they were away all weekend with their dad). I was given the gift of my own space - inside and out - to learn, to absorb, and to practice. The living room became my yoga space. The office was where I listened to lectures and interacted with the group. My bed, at the end of each day, became space for a welcoming collapse.

Our outer journeys are meaningful - the relationships we cultivate, the families we care for, the careers we sustain, and our day-to-day efforts that produce results. Our inner journey is often forgotten, as we are constantly pulled by the logic and necessities of everyday life. We may meditate or pray each morning. We may allow ourself a quiet moment with a cup of coffee before catapulting into the day. But for the most part, 99% of the time, we are in motion, taking care of things, thinking about things, and living our lives.

With the opportunity to meditate, do yoga, and listen to my breath for 3 straight days, I realize how much my logical mind runs my life and my encounters.

During our day, we are skilled, prepared, organized, and focused. We believe we know who we are and what we want. We stand by schedules, routines, and everyday etiquette.

When we acknowledge the logical part of us, the part that knows who we are, knows what needs to be done, and knows how to do it, we feel purposeful, oriented, and grounded in the experience of our day. We feel useful, and accomplished.

There is another part of self, a part that is not logical, not in the mind, and not accessible through thought alone. This part of us is our inner essence, our energy which is the same as the energy of the earth and the clouds.

Yogis call this energy Prana.

Prana is an aliveness that pulses within, breathing heart and soul into our daily efforts and pursuits. Prana awakens our senses and feeds an inner desire. Prana invites us to ask our heart, rather than our head. When I experience Prana, I know what I need to do next, not because it is expected of me, or expected of my job, but because I simply "feel" the desire to do it.

An example of moving from Prana might be calling someone to say, I love you. It might be hugging your child or family member. It might be taking a bath or doing a yoga practice. Prana lets you know when something or someone is off - that icky feeling in your gut. Prana makes you dance, chant, laugh, scream, or cry.

Prana MOVES you to a place of deep sensation, whether emotional or physical. And we act according to that sensation. We speak up. We let go of the work and play with our kids. We finally make time for ourself. We get to the art project or cook a delicious meal.

To be moved by Prana requires you to notice the logical mind, and then step back. Of course we need to rely on rational thought to complete tasks and interact with the human world. But we also need Prana, moments of divine interception when we are moved into sensation, and allowed to feel. Sometimes, out of nowhere, emotion moves us. A song, a commercial, a scent, a memory. These experiences are activating Prana, the part of our cells that remember our aliveness and our capacity.

Feeling the truth of ourself, in the moment, allows us to be present, aware of logic and inner calling. We tune into our heart instead of our mind. We are in our mind enough. That sweetness, and all that is dear to you, is Prana, and Prana keeps you alive.