forest yoga

I often lie down in the round little clearing and let the sunlight wash over me. Eyes closed tight, I give myself up to it, ears tuned to the wind whipping through the treetops. Wrapped in the deep fragrance of the forest, I listen to the flapping of birds’ wings, to the stirring of the ferns. I’m freed from gravity and float up-just a little-from the ground and drift in the air. Of course I can’t stay there forever. It’s just a momentary sensation-open my eyes and it’s gone. Still, it’s an overwhelming experience. Being able to float in the air.

Kafka on the Shore, Haruki Murakami

From the first Murakami book I read.