Posted in meditation

Crazy Town

This was the view this morning from Grant Science Center about 8 AM.

view from grant science

I was walking Boomer this morning, which I never do, because G usually walks Boo in the morning, but this morning she was boarding the bus to Crazy Town, so I found myself trotting the Corgi through the sleepy campus as the carillons banged out the first eight gongs of the day.

“Crazy Town” is what we call softball season/yoga challenge season because it is now that our fairly orderly, routinized, and ritualized lives start to go completely haywire, and continue wiring that hay until about mid-May when we both “come to,” scratch our heads and go: What the hell just happened? 

Every year we think: Nah, this year we have it. And every year, we lose it.

I lose it due to sleep deprivation. She loses it due to…pick one: weather, losses, player melt-downs, or some wild card event that no one could have predicted.

So as the carillons pealed out across the campus this morning and the Corgi found an old pizza crust and scarfed it down, and G was loading the bus with players and Gatorade, I took a picture of the sky.  Because the sky was quiet.

And I needed a picture of quiet today.

Author:

I’m a small town yoga teacher who says motherfucker a lot. I hate anything woo. I’m into neuroscience. And facts. I’ll lead the chanting of “om” sometimes, but it makes me feel awkward. I want to access flow states. As far as yoga helps me do that, I’m into it. Dopamine is my fave neurotransmitter. Don’t tell anyone I told you this.

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