The day itself was cold, but sunny, which was a real treat after yesterday’s dreariness.
So as I was washing up and contemplating going into my room and doing my practice, it occurred to me that, “Shit! Today is Friday. Friday is Yoga Workout Day at the studio!
And even though I was close to positive that no one else was going to show up to practice, I told them that I would be there every Friday at 10 AM to do the Workout. So I got dressed and went.
And no one came. I could have done this same practice in my cozy little yoga room here at home, but here I was, in this vast room, just me and Yoganand (on the Ipod).
Which was fine. It really was.
I am waiting for the day when this practice doesn’t kill me. Today was NOT that day. It killed me. I was particularly aware of how weak my legs are. The standing one-legged balances? “Flying Airplane” posture? Are you kidding me? My standing leg quakes. I want to come down so very much. It is so very, very hard. He says , “Now, you can extend into Warrior 3” and in my mind I want to, but my body is so very, very WEAK. And my arms are weak. And my hips are tight and weak. All I become aware of in that practice is how weak and restricted I am in every place in my body.
At the end of the practice I am exhausted. I thought for one nano-second of going to the gym and running on the treadmill afterwards, but no. Done. Needed to go home. Needed food. And that’s what I did. I also considered doing some cleaning, but no. This weekend I will clean. Now, I needed food.
When I walked in the house, the dog was all frisky, so I ate a handful of nuts, changed into jeans and walked her. Last night I went down to the basement and found a winter coat. My light winter coat, but my winter coat nonetheless.
And today I wore it again, but no hat. I kind of needed a hat, but the weather was on the bubble between “hat” and “no hat”, and there wasn’t much wind so I decided “no hat.”
Dog walked, then home to lunch: Brown rice and broccoli and a little leftover tuna. And a small bag of Pirate Booty and later, a Chobani greek yogurt (blueberry).
The stupid paper came and I read that as I ate. This was the last paper in my year’s subscription and I talked to G last night about renewing. I hate everything about this paper. I hate the editorial policy, I hate the letters to the editor, I hate its pro-gas drilling bias, I hate the right wing Christians who write the most insane letters to the editor.
I hate the church reports and how the only thing that people seem to get all enthused about are veterans. Support our troops! Send cookies! Make banners and display the pictures of all the service men on Main St.
Really? There will be nothing to get enthused about if Obama sends all the troops home. Booor-ing!
I call this paper “The Aggravator” or “The Agitator.” Because that’s all it does to me when I read it: aggravates and agitates. So why in hell do I subscribe to it? That’s the question I asked G.
Because I need to know where I live? Because I need to know what the enemy is hatching and scheming and thinking and doing, so I don’t walk into an ambush?
Probably. So I just caved and renewed for another year.