His mother’s voice came down the stairs weak and tremulous, and yet thorny as a scrabby old bush growing out of garbage and gravel. Donny immediately lost his sung state of peaceful awareness, though his shoulders remained soft for now, his breathing deep and full, his arms rounded protectively in front of him. “Did you get the coupons, dear?” His tongue remained lightly touching the roof of his mouth just behind the teeth. His fingers were spread, but not rigid, in the “beautiful lady hands” posture, the thumbs and forefingers slightly stretched, the other fingers relatively more relaxed. His spine was straight, shoulders rounded, his pelvis tilted slightly, his knees bent, toes lightly curled. His eyes were open to the fullness of the cosmos, but not focused on anything in particular. “Food Plaza is open right now, but the coupons won’t be there all day,” his mother said. “I need lemons and eggplant. Did you hear me?” His spine was subtly stretching and compressing with each breath, exercising the three “hinges of power”: the base of the spine at the pelvis, the middle where the chest opened and closed, and the “gate of heavenly awareness,”
