Here I am, two days into yoga summer camp. Feeling alternately inspired and uninspired. This morning I admit boredom. Kira's teaching at 9 am and although I'm up and dressed for it, a vinyasa class does not sound appealing. I miss my hot yoga practice, but I'm not sure I want to do that, either. If the essense of yoga is focus and attention, as Joel Kramer writes, then I'm screwed. I find my mind wandering during meditation, my breath escaping me without acknowledgement and my body physically resisiting the poses I ask of it. All of it is physical: my back is suddenly a liability again. Sensation comes and goes in my right leg and my upper back and shoulders spasm as if in shock when asked to compensate for the lower back. Tomorrow I visit a chiropracter--my future as a yogi lies in her hands.

It's hard not to feel inspired in Kira's studio. It's a small, light space with open windows and pale blue walls. Almost nothing reminds me of my studio at home; in fact,the windows here open up to big, green trees. No gas station or apartment complexes in sight. The pace of things is different here, which suprises me. Students don't start showing up for class until a minute before it is scheduled to begin. Do I feel somehow threatened by this? A chance exists that I rely on arriving thirty minutes before the class to spread my mat out, roll my neck around, focus. I don't know how to just arrive. This morning (Sunday) Ashley and I woke up only ten minutes before 8, actually driving the three blocks to the studio so we could make Uschi's strong vinyasa class. I tried not to panic, but I did a little anyway. How do they do it, these people who just stroll into class, thunk their mats down and forward fold?

I need to start my yoga homework. Something about sequencing. In the interest of not letting these posts of mine drag on and on for days, I'm pressing "publish post" and just letting what I've said be what I've said. The end.