This morning in yoga, Clio instructed us to take wheel pose with the backs of our heads against the wall, our hands on blocks. She told us to start stepping our feet toward the wall as we walked our hands up the wall. I did as I was told, but I wasn't sure what I was trying to accomplish. Clio hovered over me as I moved upward.
"There you go!" she encouraged. "You're almost there!"
I was three-quarters of the way up the wall, and Clio was cheering me on, but I was confused.
"What am I working toward?" I asked, my head hanging upside down through my extended arms, glasses askew, palms pressed flat against the wall.
"Oh." My eyes were fixed on the white wall behind me. "Sometimes I forget."
"But more immediately, you're trying to stand upright."
"Just stand up? I can do that."
I walked my hands a little higher, lifted my chest and head out of the bend, and there I was: standing. Clio smiled and clapped, beaming, a proud parent.