The title of this post refers to a comment Nathan made about me a few nights ago, in reference to why he and other males would come to my yoga classes. Hee.
Last night Nathan (et al) came over for dinner and we cooked a most tasty meal of coconut curry with baked tofu, cous-cous with dates, and a vegan quinoa black bean salad with mangos. Also in the mix: vegan carrot cake cupcakes with vegan cream cheese frosting. Oh, yes. I'm in to vegan cooking and baking these days, and finding it is into me. This is called the Yogery, after all: I'm allowed to discuss meals, right, Loweball?
I managed to get on the Friday night cleaning shift at CorePower, so now I get free, unlimited yoga. This news came right after I bought a second pass to the studio. They won't give me my money back, but I do get a credit to the studio for 75 dollars. Time to buy a fancy sport bra, I guess.
The entire morning and early afternoon surrerendered to Nathan's presence. Aside from walking Jo-Jo a few times in the early morning, we didn't even leave the house until 1:30. Nothing was accomplished, and after he left I felt a bit scattered.
I was totally off in yoga tonight. Didn't even remember to bring my clothes; a kind woman in the locker room lent me a pair of pants and a sports bra after I realized I was stranded with jeans and a sweater. It was Heidi's hot class, a class I'm liking more and more. It doesn't seem as dire when she teaches. I've been admitedly anxious lately. I don't really know how to talk about it here. Anyway, all that being said or not said, yoga class was an excercise in focus. Heidi asked us to make an intention before class, let it in with our breath and let it out. I had no intent, no dedication. Most of the poses felt like hell, the borrowed pants were too big and it was hard not to pull them up. However, I did find some sweet spots.
I've always liked Hands-to-Feet pose, but find myself a little shaky when I come up from the bend with my elbows behind my calves. I think I'm a little afraid of rolling my weight forward wth my head that relaxed. Anyway in class tonight I pulled up with my hands, which were palm-up under my feet with all fingers facing forward, and used my arm strength to pull. Doing this helped my legs straighten out, and my head just sort of fell down below my knees. This created an awesome lightness in my upper back--I can't even describe it, but it was really addicting and awesome feeling. Like a heavy sack of flour sifted. I just wanted to hang there all night. Bikram's book says this pose is good for concentration--after I settled into the pose, it was hard to remember to keep my quads and legs engaged. I feel strange about having just used the word "quad", as if I'm the kind of person who casually references muscles in their abbreviated forms, as if I know anything about it.
The light sensation I felt in my shoulders, neck and head was a reconnecting moment for me. Kind of like in a literature class when for no other reason but instinct a sentance in a story or poem just stands out. You just kind of get it. I do know how to talk about my anxiety; when I wrote earlier I didn't, I was lying. I've always thought of myself a certain way, thought of the people I spent my time with as being a certain way. Of course I'm not objective about my own life; most of the time I'm downright defiant about it. Ashley sends me articles to read about letting go of options; she is referring to boys, I need to let go of boys, but think of it this way: the person you are will be replaced. Both reading and yoga have similar affects on my emotional life. The same way reading a poem can remind you of something, someone, who's memory has been stored somewhere hidden inside your brain or introduce vivid new self-narrative , a yoga posture can undo any identity you've assumed. What's left of you is what you've always been. I am not the isthmus of vigilance I think I am. These things, yoga, reading, writing, teach me how to articulate. How to be a beveled pane of refraction. This is why I love yoga. This is why I love reading. Think of it this way: a friend wrote to me recently of summer coming; it's never stable, but always happy.