This morning, as I waited in the Lake St, Red Line Station for the north-bound train, a homeless man sang songs for the masses on their morning commute. He sang with an infectious conviction that slowed the pace of almost every traveler. I watched the perfect melodies melt the frozen exteriors of Chicago's corporate Americans. Some stopped. Some shared a token of their appreciation with a smile or dollar. But I'm certain, inside every fur-lined boot and down parka; all felt the tingling warmth of the Christmas spirit.

The allusive winter spirit visits us and takes many forms. It can be felt in the stillness after a fresh snowfall. Or tasted in a warm batch of still gooey chocolate chip cookies. It smells of cinnamon and pine and sounds like the voice of the Lake St. Station, Red line singer.

Friday night at Bloom Yoga Studio on the city's northwest side, I participated in Midnight Yoga. For once I approached a physical activity with no tangible goals in mind. Dimly lit by candle and propelled by live music, the winter spirit hung in the studio's every corner.

Friendly chatter and festive snacks and drinks followed the hour and half practice. Similar to the train station scene this morning, strangers slowed down to share some Christmas cheer. For a moment in sport, there was no competition, just acceptance. For a moment we basked in the tingling sensation that warmed our shoeless toes.

-Meghan