This morning as I softened into a forward fold, I heard the sound of my yoga teacher’s voice.

Imagine you are a banana Popsicle, dropped on the ground by a careless toddler who has run after a puppy. The July sun warms you from the outside—moving in. You melt, breath by breath, becoming one with the pavement.

I used to push, strain and pound, but found it led to injury.

Sometimes a hammer might be the only way, but sunshine and a banana Popsicle hold the first position in my toolbox.