I do not want to hold your hand in savasana


“Letting go is an invitation to cease clinging. It is a conscious decision to release with full acceptance into the stream of present moments as they are unfolding. To let go means to give up coercing, resisting, or struggling, in exchange for something more powerful and wholesome which comes out of allowing things to be as they are without getting caught up in your attention to or rejection of them, in the intrinsic stickiness of wanting, or liking and disliking. It’s akin to letting your palm open to unhand something you have been holding on to.” – Jon Kabat-Zinn

I do not want to hold your hand in savasana.

As much as my mind loves the idea, something in the sweat of my palm says no. But oh,

My mind wants to.

Oh yes, my mind is very excited by the idea. Oh oh, the spectacle of it.

We stay in starfishasana till we are the last two starfishes (experiential evidence of our rare breed). We stay, not because traditionally 10 minutes is required to allow your body to absorb the benefits of practice and no, not because I am particularly calm or still or peaceful even (my mind is orchestrating it all, see) simply so that every other little starfish can wake up and walk out and on their way out see us and see that I have found my starfish, and yes, yes, I am in love, this is love, and if it wasn’t for this heavenly brown skin, (perhaps the lights could be more dim) they wouldn’t even be able to tell where I end and you begin. In a packed studio of sweating starfishes, we, the rare breeds, yes, we could be the stars.

But no, this is not it.

I do not want to hold your hand in savasana.

And if I’m going to be honest, I do not think you want to hold my hand either.

I believe we’re both in agreement that the beginning feels pleasant. The gesture. The initial sensation. Your fingers graze mine, just to let me know you’re there. But after a minute or so I sense both hands getting restless. Sooner or later, you give into a dull scratch. You give into a dull scratch not because you haven’t spent 20 days in silence learning the art of observing sensation only to be seduced by every dull scratch, you give into the dull scratch because you actually just do not want to hold my hand anymore and frankly, I do not want to hold yours either. See,

I like your hand. It is a handsome hand. And

I like you near. But,

I need my space. And,

I’m much more comfortable with my palm on its own and open.

And when the studio is our bedroom and the end of class is the end of day:

I want to crawl into bed with you and close my eyelids lightly. Sometimes I find this difficult because at the end of the day my eyeballs are sore from trying to see what I want to see instead of what is actually there. My eye pillow can help. If only it had a little band to stay on when I went sideways. I need not scrunch my eyelids shut for fear of the dark. I will close my eyelids lightly and even allow a little bit of light from the nightlight my mother placed in the hallway. And I will close my eyelids lightly as I spoon you sideways. The eye pillow will fall and I will become absorbed in your breath in your backbody. As you inhale I feel this moment expand and as you exhale I feel this moment soften. And I will stay with this breath. I will stay with each inhale and each exhale as an anchor to keep me here and (even when I feel this ship sinking)

I will just be here.

I am here.

And I will release the hinge of my jaw now, lightly. And when you ask me with your virgo voice what the plan is tomorrow like you do and you’ve done every night since you were old enough to talk I will answer with a quiet smile. Because, sweet, sweet organized virgo

To be fully present today means admitting that tomorrow, I don’t really know. I don’t know.

And so I let go.


To hold you in my arms today and really feel your arms today means that I cannot feel them tomorrow.

And to let go of your hand in savasana is to trust that when we wake up,

It will still be there.

I must trust that your arms and your hand and your heart will still be there.

And at the same time, I must be courageous enough to know that

Your arms and your hand and your heart might not be there.

And that’s okay.

Because we’re here.

I am here. And

This is it.

This is all there is.

"Letting Go" by Bandico

“Letting Go” by Bandico


6 thoughts on “I do not want to hold your hand in savasana

  1. Oh My, Sarah!

    How wonderful it is to read another one of your posts. So refreshing and moving in so many ways.

    You have not lost your touch.

    Keep writing. You have a gift and it is so great that you are sharing it with the world.

    Thanks for sharing.



    Madeline Brose msbrose56@gmail.com


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