I learnt about the economy of movement in a yoga class at school. It was written in our textbook. It told us that each physical action of ours must be deliberate. I was fascinated by the simplicity of the idea: do not move more than you need to. Not a flick of the wrist, more than necessary. Just the right amount of footsteps while walking. Catch myself playing with my hair, as I often do, and bring my arm to rest. Try to stand with my feet firmly on the floor. Feel my tongue pressed against the top of my mouth, and allow it to drop. I am moving, but there is something that isn’t, and I can feel it. I am still, but in motion. I can also hear it — the economy of movement is like a red light in my brain. There isn’t a traffic jam of thoughts, up there. I can feel my fingers pressed against each other, warm. I can hear the fan whirring above my head, the breeze dances above my skin. My insides are working while my body is still. I inhale, wait, then exhale, and my heart beats like a well oiled metronome, keeping time as I move into the next moment.