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Hey, It’s been a long time coming, but I’ve figured out what my next blog will be though I haven’t named it yet. I’m going to be blogging about my Fellowship and the next chapter in my life that’s going to start this summer in Manhattan! Whoo hoo!
Actually I’ll take suggestions on the name. As for the start date. Look for me to start posting on May 1st. See ya then.
I didn’t realize it had been ten days since my last yoga practice and post until a friend pointed out the date to me. I wasn’t even sure of that until I checked my cell phone just now. One day turned into two, which snowballed into ten. Ironically my yoga mat has been laying wide open on the floor in my living room and I just keep maneuvering around it.
I should read Consequences II again; it wasn’t an optimistic post as I recall. I think I decided that since all the work I’d put into this could be rolled back in such a short period of time, it wasn’t worth doing anymore. Childish and reactionary, I know.
I didn’t plan to stop doing this project. It just kinda happened. I meant to start back after the 2nd day, but I didn’t and it became less and less important. It didn’t even tug at me. Kinda like the last time you kiss someone, sometimes you don’t realize it’s the last kiss until all of a sudden a lot of time has gone by.
A month of phoning in my yoga practice is starting to show. I’m getting sloppy around the gut and my eating has not returned to previous healthy norms. Also, remember my super hero level bladder control – gone. 😦
Tonight, I almost didn’t do yoga at all. I got my period again for like the twelfth time in the last 3 months and I feel like a big, bloated, shiny-faced tub-o….which makes me want to eat more sugar. 😦
I did do a bit of Ripley’s YfB practice, but let the record show that 15 minutes of yoga a day makes a much bigger difference than 6-12 minutes of easy yoga a day.
The artwork in this post is from the 2nd Grade class at Copper King Elementary School. This was the sweet part of a tiring day. My 12 minutes of yoga tonight felt like needed respite. I felt like some of my frayed edges were smoothed out by taking the time to be still, dwell and stretch.
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That’s how many minutes my yoga practice was tonight and I’m ok with it. I have a pack of warm mud in my hair and am wearing a mud-splattered bathrobe to boot. Why, you ask. It’s henna time. The outcome is supposed to be healthier, deep-conditioned hair with a hint of a mahogany highlight that not even a man on a flying horse could see.
It’s dark outside, but I did yoga earlier this morning. I almost wrote early, but I think some folks might object to calling 10am early. Anyhoo, after hitting snooze a bajillion times, I finally got up and went to Inner Vision. Jeff’s class was full (I think), but I was thinking I might want to do the Level 1 class anyway, which I did and it was a really good class and I liked the instructor and practice a lot.
My purple mat is still open on the floor of my living room from last night appearing to beckon as if I’ve yet to do yoga. So after walking by it for the umpteenth time, I decided to come back here and write this post and the next time (or two) that I pass by it, I’ll roll it up and put it in the closet where it belongs.
This is shaping up to be the year of dreams fulfilled. I had a major insight that cracked open a whole new world of possibility for me today. It’s still opening up. If I weren’t already dog tired I’d share more about it right now.
The shortest version I can manage is that the source of my whole life of want, struggle, anger and frustration in the area of relationships became crystal clear today in distinguishing the conversation that has been running my life, unbeknownst to me. That conversation, which has provided the default backdrop, context if you will, for all my thoughts and actions is “What’s wrong with me?”
And the more I accomplished and the more I was acknowledged, the more persistent the question was. “What’s wrong with me?” that if I’m so great, I never get asked out; I haven’t had a date since the Bush administration and I never get hit on by anyone with a full set of teeth, I’ve never been in a long-term relationship, engaged, etc meanwhile toothless, angry, dumb heifers date, fall in love, have sex and get married repeatedly. What more could I possibly do or be? You may also hear the flip-side of this question, which is “what’s wrong with them?” Either I’m too good for them or they’re too good for me.
Over the past two years I’ve expanded my capacity for dealing with what needs to be dealt with – facing the piper, if you will. I’ve also, mercifully, developed my capacity for humility – going broke’ll do that to a person. So today, after an extended holiday season of indulgence, I got back on the scale to discover I’d only gained six pounds.
Six pounds. Old me probably would be dramatically disappointed in myself for taking a step backwards. Current me…not so much. Which is not to say I wasn’t scared to get on the scale, but I thought it’d be worse, so six pounds seems pretty good to me.
I even googled it so I’d have the correct album title….but yes, this yoga thing is a hard habit to break. Short practice tonight…on account of the full stomach and weak will, but it’s still good to take a few minutes to at least have an intention of being present and active at the same time. That’s all. Peace.
I’m glad to be back in my own home for the first time in two weeks. I’m glad I took the time to clean and do the dishes before I left. I’m glad I took the time to unpack both my suitcase and the dishwasher within an hour of returning home. I’m glad I just took a nice long hot shower. I even like the woodsy scent of the latest “as seen on tv” product I’ve bought to combat my cracked and peeling heels. Note to self though…apply heel remedy after doing yoga.
Practice tonight was familiar cast of poses and a very relaxing ending in savasana, which I skip way too often. I could feel my body subtly realigning itself into what was probably straightness, but felt unfamiliar and crooked. I still want to skip it everyday, but thankfully it’s a good habit that I’ve grown accustomed to doing.