The power of a decision. The moment we 'decide' can carry a determination lit by our 'root' chakra at the base of the tailbone. Decisions are sometimes described as 'moment-ous', the very moment we take the decision is like the moment we lit a match, flicked a switch. There was a before, an after and not much in between. This fiery energy is one we learn to tap into, work with, and engage in poses such as inclined plane.

We 'decide' to lift up our body -- there's no other option. Do we really 'make' decisions, or 'take' them? In this pose, you literally take yourself up into that decision and that's that. You can't get into this pose half-assed. Literally, your rear-end goes all the way up, or it doesn't move off the mat much at all. You can't get into this pose with hesitation or equivocation or while dreamy or spacy. Unlike other asanas, there is no gradual softening or release; none of this waiting for a part of the body to open. It's all or nothing. You decide to lift up, or you decide not to. You decide to stay in it longer. And longer. And longer. Or you decide to take yourself out of it.

I sensed that my great-grandpa Salvatore's decision to head out of his native hills to America wasn't a whim. It wasn't made lightly. He didn't live near the sea where it would've been easy to find the opportunity to set sail, where by random chance he could've hopped on a vessel. He lived hours inland -- almost right in the middle of Sicily -- and hours up -- 2,000 feet up. There was a strong power and energy behind his decision to leave. Going down that mountain alone would've required decisiveness and determination; a courage and boldness to walk the edge of a literal and figurative cliff into the unknown. It's not like he could've Googled for tips on how to adjust to life in America...

But his fiery energy, this internal power, on his voyage and once he arrived in America? How did he sustain it? Could he?

He and his family lived in Pennsylvania, farming, before ending up in Chicago's Little Italy. Did Salvatore think America would be like pretty, bucolic Santa Caterina except with more riches? Was the reality a jolt? That the streets weren't paved with gold and that he still had to work? Except now he had to do so in a land that viewed him with suspicion? The Natale name eventually became 'Natalie', Cologera became 'Charlotte'. Blend in, fit in, look like everyone else, act like them, too. It's hard to fan your flames and tend your fire when you're so busy melting into the pot.

I don't think it helped that their neighbors in Little Italy were gangsters. The Cosa Nostra was still very much alive and present in his life on the West Side of Chicago. Salvatore and Charlotte (and their growing brood) learned not look at street-crimes, to avert their eyes, keep walking, and pretend not to notice. They wouldn't even leave their apartment if they heard gunfire. How to keep fast to our visions, our desires and decisions amid challenges, fears and anxieties?

There's something so beneficial about tending to our roots, about giving them a little love and attention from time to time. I feel warm and satisfied from my visit, with a genuine interest in Charlotte and Salvatore, as well as gratitude and appreciation.