In Samuel Beckett’s absurdist play, Waiting for Godot (which you probably read in school, remember?) two characters are seen sitting on a bench on a blank stage, waiting aimlessly for someone named Godot, whom they both know only slightly and whom never shows up. There is a parade of characters in and out of the play, bringing violence, vulgarity, threats of suicide and murder and chaos but Godot never arrives. The play is both really funny and really grim.

What’s missing for Vladimir and Estragon, the two hapless and hopeless characters waiting for Godot, is any sense of self or self discipline. They are swirled around aimlessly by any passerby’s attendant chaos. They become embroiled in every drama that randomly passes through their approximate space.

Kind of like the beginning of March with its promise of spring (hurrah), which never arrives, and two feet of snow (argh) that we get instead. Kind of like the way that, if we are not careful, we take on the chaos all around us.

Oh, if only Vladimir and Estragon had a place to practice yoga.

Thank goodness, YOU do.

See you on the mat!