The Chin Mudra

I'm trying to learn mudras to incorporate a more sacred feel to my dancing. My daughters Deirdre Camille and and I have been working on a piece to Gypsy Caravan's "Awakening". In it, we are telling the story of when Paravati shed her dark skin and became Gauri and her black skin became Kali.

Throughout the first half of the dance, I need to stay in one place to hide Camille and Deirdre. Since I can't move my feet, I figured it would be an ideal time to use sacred hand movements to summarize our story.

There's no one in Maine who can teach me, so I did what any bibliopile/shopaholic would do and purchased a book, Mudras, Yoga in Your Hands by Gertrud Hirschi.

I managed to read the first few chapters while nursing Theo on our cramped patio space. I say cramped because our back outdoors-like area boasts an array of planting items, a mop and it's bucket, bikes, Rollerblades, scooters, a water table, Aiderondak (yes, I spelt it wrong on purpose because it's fake and I don't want to commit copyright infringement) firniture (that I spelt wrong because I' typing with one hand while holding a sleeping infant), and a huge table that Drew had to buy with the intention of fixing about one thousand years ago.

Sam was occupied near me with the empty water table. Yes, I'm a terrible mother for not wanting to fill that thing up four hundred and sixty two times a day so that he can add mud and paint to create art. He seemed content driving his cars up and down the sides, so I didn't want to cause any friction between us that morning.

I got to the first mudra, the most important mudra, the best known. The one on the cover of the book. The one referred to as "The Chin Mudra". The one that Drew calls the A-Okay.

I played with the movement on only one hand because my other arm was fiercely wedged between Theo's head and my lap. I gestured wildly for a long time trying to dredge up a positive memory to focus on.

Sam got tired of playing in his empty water table and went inside. He popped out again and put his cars in the mop bucket and headed back in. I realized that waving my hand around frantically wasn't the proper way to work mudras so I slowed down to a standstill and pondered Theo's birth which may have ended happily, but the ordeal of adding him to my rather large family was painful and messy.

I shifted my thoughts to my handfasting last June, but got bogged down in the stressful details. I paused, shook my fingers, called out Sam's name and was answered with a "Get out of my room," a phrase Sam picked up from his older sisters.

I brought up images of Drew and pushed my fingers back together. I considered the almond shape of my husband's eyes, the way his glasses rest on his thin nose, and his lips that I long to trace the inside of with my tongue. I began to think about the night we met and how it seemed like we had been apart for such a long time that it felt like our bodies were sobbing when they came together.

Suddenly, my mind was alive with memories of our short time together, the conception o our two sons, their births, picking apples with everyone, a visit to Pumpkinland with the girls.

Like my text instructed, I shifted my focus to my fingers to test if I felt anything, and you know what? I did feel a tingling, like an energy was traveling through my right hand. Just as I was certain that an epiphany was upon me, I heard a sloshing sound coming from the kitchen.

Struggling to stand up I dropped my book and knocked over my glass of water. I did manage to keep Theo latched on so by all means, my aerobics were successful and I could count my exercise as done for the day.

I stumbled into the kitchen, cooing to Theo and found Sam standing on a chair at the sink with a full bucket and a running tap. Water dripped over the edge onto the counter, floor, and all over Sam.

"Look at this." Sam smiled.

I looked down at Theo who finally rolled his face away from my nipple. Leaning over Sam, I turned off the faucet.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." I moved past him and headed up the stairs slowly. I climbed over boxes of Drew's art and the random toy and picked my way through old baby items that I wasn't ready to part with, and stepped over two laundry baskets to reach my bedroom door only to be thwarted by the child safety knob.

It took three tries that consisted of pressing my hips against the door to kind of hold Theo while I jimmied the handle with a sort of free hand to get in. I tiptoed across my room again accosted by an odd array of stuff that we keep meaning sort, organize, and put away.

Reaching the crib was no easy feat and slipping Theo over the rail was something that Homer should have written about. But, I did it and after rubbing his belly, he fell back to sleep and I retreated the way I'd come listening for the deafening sound of a splash that would mean my kitchen was done for. It never came.

Sam was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs with his coloring books and crayons. The bucket of water was forgotten. I sighed feeling relaxed for the first time in ages. I think it was because I kept jamming my fingers together to form the Chin Mudra.