Twas a Month Before Christmas: My Yoga Elf On The Shelf

T'was a month before Christmas, when all through the house

I pulled out decorations from storage, with the help of my spouse.

When all of the decorations were put out with care,

My husband pointed across the room and said, “Hey- what’s ova there?”

My Elf On The Shelf, Rondolpho, had been tucked under my bed,

While visions of mischief danced in his head;

With hubby in his Dickies and Rondolpho in his cap,

He had just woken his brains from a year long nap,

 Out of his box, Rondolph’s body was stiff,

So he wanted to do something that we give him a lift.

Away from the box, he flew like a flash,

He tore open his yoga mat and stripped off his sash.

From the tip of his head to the bottom of his toes,

Gave lustre of his asana to us watching the show.

When what to his wondering third eye did appear?

But his true north alignment and postures with cheer.

With a power vinyasa so lively and quick,

I knew that his practice wouldn’t miss a trick

More rapid than eagle arms, his postures they came,

And he chanted and chanted and then called them by name:

"Now, Balasana! now, Adho Mukha Svanasana! now Uttihita Chaturanga Dandasana and Anjaneyasana!

On, Salamba Sirsasana! on, Dhanurasana! on, Setu Bandha Sarvangasana and Svasana!

To the top of my head! With my legs up the wall!

Now Chaturanga! Chaturanga! Chaturanga it all!"

As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

Rondolpho met with an obstacle, while his feet reached for the sky;

So up to his hip points, the vinyasa he flew

With his mind filled with Desikachar and Iyengar too—

And then, in a twinkling, he heard in his throat

His ujjayi breath, which he recalled by rote.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Rondolpho came down from a bridge, into supta he bound.

Reconnecting with his body from his head to his foot,

His clothes were all sweaty and he was almost caput;

A bundle of thoughts started to enter his head

And he took a deep inhale connecting with breath instead.

His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the whites of his eyes were as white as the snow;

Before he folded over, he removed the flesh from his seat

Then folded over his thighs, dropping his head like defeat

He had a broad face and a little round belly

That moved on his inhale, like a bowl full of jelly.

He was tired and fatigued, a true yogi elf on a shelf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A drishti in his eye and a twist of his thigh

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to decry

He spoke not a word, but went straight to deep rest,

And sunk into his mat; feeling completely blessed,

He folded a towel and laid it over his eyes

And sinking into the floor, he splayed open his thighs.

After Svasana, he sprang up to his seat,

And away he chanted without missing a beat

But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he OM-ed out of sight—

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

Life is short, so get messy!