When I was little, I used to confuse homily with hominy. Easy to mix them up. And if you think of grit as being a small morsel, you might be inclined, as I once was, to refer to a short sermon as a homily grit.
In her homily grit today, my yoga teacher had us all focus on our breath, and then she pointed out that simply observing your respiration changed it—slowed it and deepened it and eased it.
That’s part of the magic of yoga: the simplest actions—even inactions—cause a cascade of benefits.