I lament the end of summer.
I sleep til 8, 9, or (shocking) 10. I get up, drink a glass of water, and go to yoga. It's downtown.
I park several blocks away from the studio, in a 2-hour spot. I walk past Oak Hill Apts. There are no oaks and no hill. There are usually several residents out front, sitting on benches or in wheelchairs, oxygen tubing and tanks, smoking, laughing, waiting for some excitement like the UPS man.
I walk through a plaza. There's a fountain, flowering plants in cement rectangles, and, across the plaza, interesting architecture. I walk past a wine store, a courthouse, law offices, and an Indian restaurant. I veer towards the street when I walk past the 12 Hour Club, to avoid the reek of old cigarettes and exhaled alcohol. Cross another street and then I see the sign for my yoga class. Up the worn wooden staircase and I'm in. Yoga: anxiety unravels.
We do extreme yoga. Yesterday the teacher knelt on my glutes to pull on my arms. OW! I said.
"That hurts?" she asked. All the other students moaned with pleasure. Of course I'm different.
"Yes! Oww. Your knees are digging in and it hurts." She moved slightly. It hurt slightly less.
"Grab on," she instructed, as she grabbed my wrists. "Now relax." How could I grab while I was relaxing? How could I relax while her skinny knees dug into my gluteal nerves? How could I do anything but yelp with pain as she cranked my back up into an unnatural arch?
Today she told us to strap up. I couldn't manage so she helped. She strapped my chest like a strait jacket. Then we did yoga. If the strap dug in, she told us, we weren't doing it properly. The strap did not dig in, so I guess I'm ok. She did pull on it a couple of times, but I was still OK. It's good to learn proper form.
After yoga I dashed home to change, then went to share Reiki at the cancer center. A new practitioner joined me. We did one session. The client fell asleep.
Then off for a chop. Annual pre-school haircut. I usually hack at it myself. Let the pro do it today.
Then the pond. Oh, the pond. I love the sun. I love to sit in a beach chair and read. I love to swim. I swam for an hour. The water is clean and cold. Loons pop up. Men fish. Mothers call, "Time to get out of the water!"
Home to Fluffy, the garden, home chores, and public radio. Catch up on emails. Up til midnight. ahh. summer.
I sleep til 8, 9, or (shocking) 10. I get up, drink a glass of water, and go to yoga. It's downtown.
I park several blocks away from the studio, in a 2-hour spot. I walk past Oak Hill Apts. There are no oaks and no hill. There are usually several residents out front, sitting on benches or in wheelchairs, oxygen tubing and tanks, smoking, laughing, waiting for some excitement like the UPS man.
I walk through a plaza. There's a fountain, flowering plants in cement rectangles, and, across the plaza, interesting architecture. I walk past a wine store, a courthouse, law offices, and an Indian restaurant. I veer towards the street when I walk past the 12 Hour Club, to avoid the reek of old cigarettes and exhaled alcohol. Cross another street and then I see the sign for my yoga class. Up the worn wooden staircase and I'm in. Yoga: anxiety unravels.
We do extreme yoga. Yesterday the teacher knelt on my glutes to pull on my arms. OW! I said.
"That hurts?" she asked. All the other students moaned with pleasure. Of course I'm different.
"Yes! Oww. Your knees are digging in and it hurts." She moved slightly. It hurt slightly less.
"Grab on," she instructed, as she grabbed my wrists. "Now relax." How could I grab while I was relaxing? How could I relax while her skinny knees dug into my gluteal nerves? How could I do anything but yelp with pain as she cranked my back up into an unnatural arch?
Today she told us to strap up. I couldn't manage so she helped. She strapped my chest like a strait jacket. Then we did yoga. If the strap dug in, she told us, we weren't doing it properly. The strap did not dig in, so I guess I'm ok. She did pull on it a couple of times, but I was still OK. It's good to learn proper form.
After yoga I dashed home to change, then went to share Reiki at the cancer center. A new practitioner joined me. We did one session. The client fell asleep.
Then off for a chop. Annual pre-school haircut. I usually hack at it myself. Let the pro do it today.
Then the pond. Oh, the pond. I love the sun. I love to sit in a beach chair and read. I love to swim. I swam for an hour. The water is clean and cold. Loons pop up. Men fish. Mothers call, "Time to get out of the water!"
Home to Fluffy, the garden, home chores, and public radio. Catch up on emails. Up til midnight. ahh. summer.
