I might have poor form this week, but the horses stared.
I cam home from work for lunch on Monday and felt called to Tuladandasana. My own little Yoga Flash Mob. Maggie (Best. Dog. Ever.) was impressed. The critique: My right hip needs to be rolled downward toward the deck floor and there should be a straight line from my lifted heel to my index fingers. You should be able to play chess or have tea on my back. I am learning not to judge myself or my postures, just observe and learn. Observe and learn. That’s what we should do with our days as they unfold. Today to equine beings observed me as I had another little Yoga attack after a run all by myself
Today I went for a short run (3 miles) before work in an idyllic equestrian neighborhood in my pseudo-rural area. I absolutely did not want to go on this run which has been the case a lot lately. The weather: perfection. I eeked out one of my better paces of late and decided to practice a little Yoga beside my car (I carry a mat in it) in gratitude. I put my mat down so I would face a gorgeous field with 2 beautiful horses grazing in the morning light. For the standing series, I began with Sun Salutations and ended with King Dancer or Standing Bow Pulling pose. The horses trotted on over to the fence and stared at the crazy human making weird shapes with her body. I was a kindren spirit with the inquisitive creatures and felt like we were having a moment, a real living thing to living thing connection. I think they were cousins of mine from my former life. I’m not sure who’s more evolved. They are eating gorgeous green grass while I brush ball field dirt from my teeth every night.
I am ashamed to admit that every Spring when ball season hits I get a little depressed since so very much of my time is spoken for. My neurosis for being an island – completely and totally self sufficient, even when it is impossible – is in full bloom when I need it the least. Though I could gaze at my children drawing on the sidewalk with colored chalk and be in my stupor of mommy joy, I spend many, many hours a week watching the at-bats and the wind-ups (two of my children are pitchers).
Thirty years ago, I was horrible at softball and I didn’t even like it. Today, my son is a lefty pitcher with a change-up that moves and my daughter is a strong, collected pitcher with a insatiable appetite for the game. My other daughter dances (THANK GOD) and has recently decided to get in on The Game. Welcome back to Angels rec ball, Clair – here comes Jane. It’s actually kind of funny give my extreme lack of talent with a bat and a glove that I am so overjoyed at the fun and fulfillment my children receive from it. I think I’ll celebrate with a little surprise Yoga at tomorrow’s tournament. Dare me? My children would be so very mortified, they wouldn’t let me back at another game. Hey,…. maybe I’m on to something here. I’d have more time for Yoga and writing. I think I’ll observe and learn from that little ditty.
Would you perform Yoga in public?