Have you ever craved your own personal TARDIS? As in, the Doctor’s Time and Relative Dimension in Space, his traveling blue box that is much bigger than it seems, strangely complicated and full of expanding potential? As it turns out, you can find your own in this pose. Child’s Pose is simple, a place of rest during an otherwise strenuous yoga class. But with knees bent, arms outstretched, and forehead on the ground, it’s also a place to just be with you. Your face is literally surrounded by your body, that vessel that also is big, complicated, and full of expanding potential. It’s a time to think of how you reside, temporarily, in that vessel. You are in your body and you are of your body but you are not your body. It has mysterious processes going on at all times of your life that you do not understand, at the same time you are somehow at the control console.
In Child’s Pose, take a moment to just be in your own TARDIS-or mind palace, for you Sherlock fans. Maybe your ready room, if you are Captain Picard and feel like taking a look at Livingston and having some tea, Earl Gray, hot. In this body/TARDIS/starship you can go some many places, do so many things. But take care. Don’t just sit your TARDIS on a temporal rift and get it blown apart. Don’t indulge too often in a Van Gogh style explosion, since you don’t always have a Pandorica ready to bail you out. And be careful who you give the key to… companions can be great but they can also turn into zombies roaming the halls. Or they can tell you they don’t like it when you redecorate. Don’t mind them, you be you: if giant coral sculptures are your thing in your own personal TARDIS, go for it. And then, when you are ready, come on out of Child’s Pose, open the TARDIS door, and explore the world some more. The blue box will be ready and waiting when you need it.