At the end of an invigorating yoga class, we settle into shavanasa, laying on our backs, perfectly still, meditating. There is soft relaxing music playing, but I soon loose track of it. I concentrate on my ujjayi breath, in and out sounding like ocean waves. I my mind’s eye I place myself laying on a beach with the waves lapping at my feet. Each breath is an ocean wave that comes further up my body. As it recedes, that part of my body melts away as if I were made of sand. I feel the heat of the sun, the wetness of the water, the tickling foam as the wave’s leading edge, the grittiness of the sand as the mold of my body slowly washes away with every breath wave. I see my feet, legs, thighs, and the rest dissolving in turn and go streaming down the shore, rivulets of individual grains of sand and broken shell mixing with the infinite ocean. Once the waves have consumed my head, all that is left is the breath, the waves, and being, there is no I. After a few minutes or maybe millennia, I start returning the same way I disappeared, bit by bit, as the breath waves deposit sand grains into my body mold. I lay there, more beach than human, breathing and being. When the instructor cues us to come out of shavasana, my feel body I rematerialize out of the cosmic consciousness, solid once more. Sand grains that once were mountains, will become rock again someday.