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May 29 — Asana: Finding Your Ground on the Waterfront Trail

  • Writer: Alison Rawlins
    Alison Rawlins
  • May 29
  • 2 min read

A vibrant watercolor depiction of a yogi gracefully performing a meditative asana, surrounded by soothing splashes of color.
A vibrant watercolor depiction of a yogi gracefully performing a meditative asana, surrounded by soothing splashes of color.

When people hear the word Asana, they usually picture a quiet, climate-controlled yoga studio. They think of pristine mats, absolute stillness, and twisting into a perfect, geometric warrior pose. The ancient text defines it simply: sthira-sukham asanam—a steady, comfortable seat in your own body.


But for many of us, our truest body awareness doesn't happen on a sticky mat. It happens outside, in motion, where the world is active and alive.



A woman joyfully walks along the colorful Ithaca Dog Park waterfront trail, accompanied by her two energetic dogs—an Australian cattle dog mix and a young blue nose bully, both pulling eagerly on a blue climbing rope.
A woman joyfully walks along the colorful Ithaca Dog Park waterfront trail, accompanied by her two energetic dogs—an Australian cattle dog mix and a young blue nose bully, both pulling eagerly on a blue climbing rope.

The Asana of the Double-Dog Walk


My personal posture practice doesn't look like a meditative mountain pose. It looks like stroll along the waterfront trail, flanked by a high-energy Blue Heeler and a strong blue-nosed Bully mutt.

If you’ve ever walked a pair of driven, curious dogs, you know it is rarely a "gentle" process. They pull. They react. They occasionally get me into trouble. To stay upright, I have to find a literal and figurative stance of readiness. My core has to engage, my feet have to grip the earth, and my focus has to split between the horizon, the path, and the leashes.


That is Asana in the real world. It is the physical rhythm of moving through nature, adapting to the pull of life, and maintaining your center even when the pace isn't entirely your own. It is an active posture of observation and deep presence.


The Slow Bleed of Tiny Painting


Because the trail walk requires so much physical presence, the creative processing happens in the pauses. The goal of these walks isn't to create a finished masterpiece while balancing two dogs on a leash—it is simply to observe, note, and collect data.

The actual "work" of the tiny painting comes much later, in a quiet, solitary moment.

Step 1: Capture the raw gesture on the trail with a quick pencil sketch.
Step 2: Return home, find a quiet seat, and add a quick splash of watercolor.
Step 3: Let it dry. Add another transparent layer tomorrow.
Step 4: Keep building the depth, piece by piece, until we meet again.

This slow, layered approach to art mirrors the way we build strength in our bodies. We don't achieve balance all at once. We show up, we capture the raw experience, and we build our architecture one layer at a time.


Find Your Stride This Summer

You don't need to be flexible or silent to practice alignment. You just need to be willing to step outside, connect your movement to the earth, and look closer at the world around you.


  • Ready to establish your own creative rhythm? Grab a pocket-sized watercolor kit and find your footing during the Paint Yoga Exploratory Art Walk Series, kicking off Saturday, July 4th.

  • Want to explore the deeper pillars of presence? Secure your spot for the 8-week Architecture of Self somatic workshop series, running Sundays from July 19 to September 6.

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