I’ve just gotten back from my first yoga class in a couple of weeks. There has been so much going on on my usual yoga days that I’ve hardly had the chance to go.

Wow, I’d missed it. I was starting to get stiff again, and I was also missing that stress relief.

Yoga is my spiritual practice. The time when I can let go and not worry about petty distinctions like whether or not an atheist can be described as “spiritual” or whether the numinous can ever be described in theistic terms. All metaphorically, of course.

The Numinous. I love that word. It’s the sensation that I get when I contemplate that I’m a bunch of protein and fat and muscle and matter–but with thoughts, feelings, and consciousness. And a conscience, for that matter. It’s all so humbling and empowering at the same time it just blows my mind. An all-natural spiritual wonder.