"Don't Forget to Breathe"

That's her constant mantra in Pilates-Yoga class, but often the last thing that enters my mind when sustaining a challenging pose. Her misty Professor Trelawney voice floats around the room as she stealthily glides from one body to the next, shifting a tense shoulder here, adjusting a trembling foot there, ensuring that all her students have achieved the correct stance.

"Yes,...YES!" she declares gleefully in a hushed cry as she gazes proudly at the lineup of statues she has molded. She savors a deep breath and then proceeds to hypnotically guide us into another core-strengthening position.

After an hour of down-face dogs, cat stretches, saluting the sun, bridges, the 100s, and all manner of contorting drills using the Magic Circle, she releases us from her spell to return to the innocence of child's pose. That's when we can truly experience her mantra, spent but invorigated, with limp arms flopped at our sides, our damp brows resting heavily on the mat.

"Breathe..."