I feel much better now.
Kids are leaving tomorrow, and I am not falling apart at the seams.
My hand is still broken, but I ran six miles today. I have no idea how that happened either other than the putting one foot in front of the other.
No time for yoga today (what with running and taking the kids swimming), but I did lay on my 55 cm ball to stretch things out.
My arthritic fingers are noduled up in full force these past few days - hand surgeon says it relates to the stress of having broken my hand. But I'm alright. My fucking reconstruction is looking worse (to me) every day. But I have a plan.
Maybe all this good cheer is simply the result of having a housekeeper these past two weeks. It's so much easier to keep at the fingerprints and the dog hair when someone else is doing the bathrooms, the sheets and towels and the vacuuming. That said, I look forward to really polishing this place up this summer and moving the kids toys - all of em - to the newly finished basement. Assuming that it actually is finished one of these days. Right now, the walls, floor, ceiling, lighting, doors, bathroom - all done. What remains is the paint job. Then it's time to get the place up and running as a full-on recreation room (my yoga room needs nothing but paint of course).
So, someone called me a chicken shit today - an anonymous commenter. Ha. I am so NOT chicken shit just because I choose not to suffer unduly. Not that I owe an explanation. But I felt like giving one anyway.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
I feel much better now.
So, there I was, all cock-sure and arrogant about being able to cold-turkey rehab myself off of some pychotropics on which I have made myself dependent over a period of more than a decade. For a few days, it was nice. All of the smiles with far less of the irritability that seems to come from the dosage being higher than my current needs. I liked the cold-turkey idea.
But apparently, it did not like me. After watching Transformers (stupidest successful movie ever; yes Megan Fox is hotness personified, but holy Shia Lebouf, where was MY eye candy? And re Megan Fox...hot yes, but I was disturbed and taken out of the moment in the movie when occasionally the camera captured her in the background of the frame, wearing what appeared to be a slack-faced look of utter stupidity that could not have been, and surely was not intended to be, acting. But yes, she is hawt. Like a steam engine hot.), I drove my kids home, put them to bed and suddenly found my eyes watering, leaking salty fluid onto my cheeks. What is this? When was the last time I wept? I couldn't say. I don't know if I ever weep, per se, where nothing is really going on, and yet I just start crying.
I am going to miss my kids terribly, that is for sure. But weeping two nights before they leave? Certainly, they are the lights in my life, providing me with seemingly endless entertainment, giggles, engagement in good thought, engagement in strategic planning, filling my heart with pride every single day. Every. Single. Day.
Something was wrong. Clearly. I pondered. I was weeping. If I have been working on ANYTHING these past few years in yoga, in psychoanalysis, in meditation, it has been to try to be GOOD to myself.
Of course, the other side is the valid argument against psychotropics: what is WRONG with some negative emotion? What is wrong with feeling our feelings?
I let the two sides debate it in my head as I alternately enjoyed this novel feeling of feeling deep, unmitigated sadness over the upcoming seven weeks without the joy of my children right here in my house, tears leaking out of my eyes in puddles and streams, while realizing, this isn't going to help me function tomorrow. Feeling one's angst is all well and good, and no drug should remove all of it the way I feel my drug of choice has been doing for years. But does one need to weep until their eyes look like they're bleeding? Does one need to kiss one's child good night and run out of the room choking down a throat full of mourning? And what if the mourning is way out of proportion to the events being mourned? Isn't there some level of appropriate affect to be used as a threshold test?
I got on my computer and looked up withdrawal symptoms and half-life for the drug in question. I saw very sane things written, things that resonated about wanting to feel all emotions, even sadness, but not wanting to collapse into non-functionality. I lay in bed and pictured myself today, on my kids' last day home before camp. And I pictured myself picturing horrible things happening to them, to us. Bus crashes. Car crashes. Food poisoning. Aneurisms. Choking incidents. Things that have no place in a functional mind, with the exception of the occasional pass-through that makes little or no impact. These images, on the other hand, had major impact. I began praying to God, apologizing to God for not believing before. I wanted him to take away the images, which I can only describe as akin to the voices heard in A Beautiful Mind. You KNOW they are wrong. But you can't make them go away. You CAN ignore them. But I was finding them rushing at me with such velocity that I knew I would remain vigilently in battle mode.
Who wants that?
And so, I went downstairs to where I have been keeping my stash and took a stepped-down dose of my pills. And I passed calmly into sleep, woke up with a spring in my step and am actually able to talk about this today, without shame, without fear, as if I were talking about someone else, as if I were describing a character in a movie.
I look FORWARD to crying real tears again someday when the time is appropriate. Not when I am responding to made up waking-nightmare images that I can't seem to banish from my head. Not when I am responding to nothing really in particular other than sending my kids off to the exact place they are literally DESPERATE to go.
For now, I am back on this lowered dose, and I consider that to be a modification. Or an exercise in flexibility. To this I will add the strength to structure a step-down program that will be, to the extent it feels healthy, VERY structured, with dates and amounts written and planned in a calendar, and tied to the healing of my broken hand, whose unexpected inherent disappointments has added a layer of pathos to my life, which perhaps makes a cold-turkey withdrawal not right for ME at this time. Maybe it would be right for me at another time, or for someone else at this time. But for me, the same way that I have to face the fact that the arthritis in my wrists is going to keep me from ever having the kind of Full Wheel that I would wish to have (because it just fucking HURTS like a MUTHAFUCKAH to support any portion of my weight on wrists bent at 90 degrees), I have to face that this is not the right time to go cold turkey. Give me a rehab center and a rubber room and a daily group session and my own crisis counselor, and yeah, I could do it. But seeing as I am just living my life here now, I think this modified plan is best.
Posted at 12:19 PM
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
I find it interesting that "clean", so long (and still) associated with being free from drugs and alcohol, is now a word that describes a way of eating that does not give rise to guilt. More specifically, "clean eating" is another way of saying "virtuous eating" or "not making a pig of myself". Sure, for some people, it means more avocado, olive oil and tofu, while for others it means more lean meat, red wine and iceberg lettuce. But ultimately, it is used to refer to partaking in foods that are not "bad foods", whatever they are.
I try never to use the word to refer to food. I do use it to refer to what I have been doing to my house these days, both inside and outside. I prefer clean, uncluttered lines. I prefer closets that could double as rooms, or nooks, as it were. I prefer gardens that are fairly symmetrical and orderly, although definitely NOT formal gardens (although I reserve the right to some day create one).
Today, I cleaned the back porch, which, due to the endless (16 of 18 days, or 17 of 19, can't remember which) rain in June, has begun to grow its own ecosystem on the floor between the flagstones. Can you say "ew"? I may have gone camping once, and I may enjoy hiking in the woods; I even enjoy digging in the dirt. But unidentified mosses and the like growing on grout just disgusts me to no end. And this, theoretically is my summer yoga studio. The downstairs yoga room is supposed to be my winter studio. It's just gotten a LOT of use these days, unfortunately.
It was yucky. Bleach galore. And then water galore to dilute the bleach so it doesn't kill the plants growing along the sides of the porch.
Another horrid side effect of the endless rain? BUGS. Not in my house, but on my plants. Plants that never saw any insect damage before are lacy with holes, the handiwork of hungry bugs brought out by the excessive moisture in the air. I don't understand the connection. But I have been told that bugs are out in force this spring/summer due to the rain.
I realize this is boring as hell.
I also had my MRI today, to check whether my left implant has ruptured. Yeah, fun. I fell asleep. Pretty impressive, if I do say so myself. I guess I can never claim to be claustrophobic. I am very very very low grade anxious about the results...like what if they see something they weren't even looking for, if you know what I mean...? But that's what I thought when I had my head CT to diagnose my deviated septum. So nothing new there.
Anyway, still boring.
So, yeah, speaking of clean, I've decided to go cold turkey on some of the meds on which I have been dependant since seven years ago, when I was diagnosed with cancer. Tapering doesn't work for me. Maybe cold turkey won't either. But tapering gave me too much to ponder. Too complicated. Cold turkey is much better for me. I think. We shall see. It's been two days, and so far so good.
Hand-disabled yoga later today.
Posted at 2:34 PM
Friday, June 19, 2009
I thought THIS was LOL-hilarious on so many levels, including the notion of TELLING your teacher how to put you into the pose. I want to find more Ashtanga how-to's so I can giggle...and be elitist for just another moment because I kind of miss that now that I have kicked myself out of the cult.
I am in WAY better spirits today, in spite of the rain, which I had better be getting used to seeing as it has shown no signs of stopping any time soon. And here is a goofy, overly maudlin analogy to go with that notion: Today as I was walking around my property, like I do most mornings, I was taking note of the insane growth of many of my shade-loving perennials and shrubs and of how my sun-lovers are kind of stunted for the most part. I was feeling a bit cross about that, when Adam, my 10-year old, brought my attention to the brook that runs along one side of the front yard. He wanted to show me how the water level was the highest he's ever seen it. What I noticed was that next to the brook was a rogue Hosta - a highly-prized shade-loving perennial that costs good money to purchase in a nursery, and is often a waste of time around here because the deer consider it to be their version of a gourmet mesculun salad. Yet there it was. In the wild. I certainly hadn't planted it. And it wasn't there last year. Would it be gilding the lily to note that next to the Hosta was a patch of Lamium? Another perennial that I have never seen available in the wild?
I haven't decided whether to leave these endlessly-rainy-season prizes where they are or to transplant them to beds where I already have already cultivated some of their kind. But I kind of found myself cheered by the fact that I have that choice now.
Posted at 8:30 AM
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Some days I just want to do yoga. Especially on days when it is torentially downpouring and being outdoors is impossible. Today was one of those days. And I spent my entire morning, mourning. Bitching, moaning. Negativity. Was so depressed that I went out of the house without noticing that my shirt was on backwards.
Came home, complained some more. Tried to envision a summer with no vinyasa, just asana, and not even any inversions.
And then I just said ENOUGH.
I got on my mat and did 10 modified sun salutations (Inhale arms up, exhale fold forward, inhale look up, exhale fold forward, inhale arms up, exhale samasthiti - second five with utkatasana). Felt great. Then all of Standing - but grabbing opposite elbows in Parsvotanasana, and stabilizing myself against a wall for the two standing balancing poses, and when it came time to do the vinyasa leading to Utkatasana and the Virabadrasanas, I did the following: INhale arms up, EX fold, IN look up, EX step back into a lunge...and then a series of lunges on the one side, leading to Hanumanasana, then the other side, finished with Utkatasana and then sat down for Primary.
In between each pose (not in between sides, at least not today), I did Navasana, then crossed ankles and skootched forward for forearm plank, lowered into sphinx, then pushed back to Virasana. Then got into the next pose. When it came time for Navasana, I did Ardha Navasana in between instead of pressing up. When it came time for Bujapidasana, I got up and did a bound Parsvakonasana, then Tarasana instead of Kurmasana. Didn't thread through for Garba, but rolled back and forth in Lotus pose, and the rest of Primary was totally doable.
Did an unbound Pasasana (prayer hands), Krounchasana, Salabhasana, then Ustrasana. Then instead of Urdvha Dhanurasana, I pressed up on my forearms. Then I turned around to the wall and did Pincha against the wall (for stability...can't play with weight bearing on different parts of the hand when wearing a cast!). Then Plow, to Karna Pidasana to the Lotus version of Karna Pidasana to headstand to the Three Seated Finishing poses, minus Uth Pluthi.
And I feel good!!!
I just don't want to get all sullen about my modifications. I know that this is only temporary, and I just have to remember that...
Posted at 3:03 PM
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
"Ruth Lauer-Manenti, a senior Jivamukti teacher, relayed the story of how she first went to Mysore to practice with Pattabhi Jois. “Sharon Gannon [director and co-founder of Jivamukti] had just come back from Mysore. She was thin, thin, thin. She looked kind of green and she had a dislocated shoulder. She said, Ruth, you gotta go. So I went the next day.”" ---- Yoga Nation
I'm not sure I understand the point of this anecdote, which was relayed at the memorial for SKPJ in NYC earlier this week. All I know is that standing where I stand right now, the prospect of a dislocated shoulder, severe weight loss and a green complexion would have me running in the opposite direction.
That said, I am working towards balance in my life. And that means not throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Ashtanga has done a lot of good for me. The negatives that I see should not define it for me, and I don't think they do.
Posted at 11:13 PM
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Apparently, while I was off somewhere paying attention to really important things like how to get my head up my own ass while backbending and twisting at the same time, I missed the men's magazine that voted Sarah Jessica Parker the Unsexiest Woman of the Year (or of all time, not sure which).
That sucks. That truly sucks not just for her but for the rest of us when the woman being dissed looked like the photo above.
Is it any wonder that she went ahead and removed her mole and surgically stapped on some skin-colored melons to try to fit into mass media's idealized version of a hard-bodied stick figure with giant mammaries and feet that were made for walking in red-soled stiletto platforms?
Sigh. It's not her fault really, exactly. It's more like she is just trying to get by in this highly demented and mysogynistic world we live in. Sure, we could wish that she could have bucked the trend. But why should we expect that?
Oh, and speaking of boobs...looking into a whole nother procedure. The breaking of the hand has liberated me somewhat...if I can't do yoga for two months, might as well be recovering from major surgery too....Fingers crossed...this one seems like a good one if I should be so lucky to qualify...
Posted at 10:41 PM
Monday, June 15, 2009
Why do you try to touch your feet to your heels in a backbend, my orthopoedic surgeon asked me.
Why do you need to push your thoracic spine into a bend when its natural form is kyphotic (curved out, not arched in)?
I was asking him what I should do about my Stage I osteo-arthritic wrists, when they hurt in full wheel. His answer: don't do it when it hurts. Joints experience degeneration over time, he explained. Do you want to exacerbate it?
Hmmmm. Well, I explained, most of my teachers offer suggestions for me to deepen my backbend to get the weight off my wrists.
That was when he pulled out the big ammo: WHY?
Why do I do this?
I do yoga to stay fit. Period. I wanted to do all of Primary without help. Check. I wanted to do the beginning of Second in order to get my backbends back after years of Primary-related neglect. Check. The rest? Hell if I know.
I explained to him that the teachers pull students into poses they can't quite do on their own. I explained that the teachers get us deeper than we otherwise might. I told him of suggestions by teacher-level cybershala students to "take the leg behind the head and PULL DOWN WITH ALL YOUR MIGHT".
Sure, some yogis are doing the crazy poses well into their 60's and beyond. But they may well be the exception, and not the rule.
Maybe at age 43, with signs of impending arthritis in my joints and a very real limitation in my backbending ability in the form of scarring and skin-tightness due to my double mastectomy, I should just ENJOY where I am in the practice and stop striving to improve?
Maybe it is time to just say no to any form of being muscled into any pose? Like, just saying no to having my fingers pulled to my toes in Kapotasana? Because there is this other possibility that I don't seem to have ever considered, and that is that over time, some poses get easier and call for a deepening (example: paschimotanasana), but that deepening could happen naturally, as opposed to the result of a teacher yanking limbs, however artfully. That deepening could be discovered by the student finding her own hands reaching her own toes.
I am shocked by my receptivity to being essentially called a fool for buying into this manhandling in the name of "going deeper". Maybe it made sense some years ago when I was getting started, when my goal was clear: finish Primary because it is supposedly therapeutic as a gestalt, and indeed I believe it has been. But now, what IS my agenda? I don't have one really other than "get my feet to my toes in Kapo"?
But WHY? Kapo is not necessary for "yoga chikitsa" (yoga therapy - putting the body right). Kapo is just, well, it would be an ego boost for me. But that is flawed thinking.
As for Legs Behind Head poses, those will come or not if my body reaches for them. I no longer will cajole them into existence. If getting deeper in Eka Pada Sirsasana suddenly calls for me to have my leg lying softly across the backs of my shoulders, then I'll know. But until then...WHY? Why push it?
I KNEW this was happening. First I gave up Torah. Then "God". Now Ashtanga.
I want yoga to enhance my life, not to take over my life.
So there you have it. Today, I took my innaugural five-mile run down the main road between Bedford and Greenwich, in the drizzling rain, and it was lovely. No worries about my hips or hammies going tight, which is ludicrous because:
WHY? Why would it matter? Would I lose my job with Cirque du Soleil? Oh. Wait. I don't bend for a living. And I don't want to live to bend. I just want to bend, and live and age gracefully, not fighting aging as an enemy.
Later tonight, I'll watch some boob tube and do some stretches to stay supple. Reasonable goal.
Posted at 7:38 PM
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Broke my hand today doing titti c. so dont expect good grammar or spelling. it's called a boxer's fracture. funny because i have been watching Burn Notice on tv and recently heard the main character talking about all the little bones in your hand that you could break while punchin someone in the face. when i lost my balance, and broke my fall with my thumb, i heard a little snap.
like a chicken bone.
of course i kept going, even did the seven headstands. even did backbends on one hand. and such good backbends too. oh well. they will still be there in 6-8 weeks. maybe even moreso, since i wont be muscling-up with vinyasas. the plan is to run and hike for exercise and streeeeeeetch...work the legs behind the head, backbends that don't involve balancing on hands...for example, dwi viparita dandadasana, which is yummy anyway...and non-binding twists, like ardha matsyandrasana.
i like challenges.
but why frazzled? because i have so much householder and other stuff to deal with. a small leak on the third floor causing mold on the second floor, a bunch of anthills i want obliterated, brian's pc needing geek-squad attention stat, a broken dishwasher (husband is doing all dishes until it is fixed, hopefully thurs, because he is steadfastly refusing to buy a new dishwasher until he can convince himself that fisher & paykel isn't really going to replace this lemon) as well as a sudden urge to redo my fucking-awful re-reconstruction and the urge is deep and distressing, a haircut appointment tomorrow morning, a new housekeeper coming tuesday morning (praise science), and now to find an orthopedic surgeon/sports medicine doctor to deal with my ongoing hand care (emergency room is only the diagnosis and quick cast).
and also: class parties, masters program orientation, playoff games (brian's team made the semi-finals...go brian!!), packing for camp (trunks leave on the 20th!!).
but as i said, i love a challenge. love when i have to make due. it may be the drama queen in me. so, i am psyched for a different kind of fitness experience this summer. whatever it is, however it turns out, i have no choice.
might as well roll with it.
Posted at 10:38 PM
Friday, June 12, 2009
I did 10 Sun Salutations and then had to start chauffeuring around. It was suburban-driving hell. No, wait, this wouldn't happen in a normal suburbs where things are close to each other. This was sub-suburban driving hell. Rural-regional driving hell.
Anyway, I had another window and decided that I needed to prune some perennials and that I would just take the day off from yoga and start again tomorrow. I did feel a lot better after the pruning. I think the need for pruning was weighing on me. All that rain has really desicrated my gardens, leaving the peonies lying all over the ground (I knew that was coming though), the mop-head hydrangeas mopping the dirt, and the weeds...oh, the weeds...they have gone steroidal. And then, some perennials grow like weeds, like, for example, Montauk Daisies. They bloom at the tail end of the summer, and up until then, they grow and grow and grow and can get up to two feet tall or more (daisies, remember, so that's kind of weird to be so tall). Anyway, the Montauk Daisies that border my back garden were beginning to remind me of the garden equivalent of an 80's hair band, so basically, I just gave em a flat top.
Problem solved. They really look quite spiffy. Kind of like my kids with their buzz cuts. Something powerful about a well-shorn head, be it a human head or a plant head.
Even though the pruning made me feel less cranky and out of sorts, still, something is weighing on me. And let me just say, it is a good problem to have. But it sucks anyway. It's my boobs. Lately, I've been getting the feeling that they are getting worse - flatter, more striated with muscle, more misshapen and pulled by scar tissue. I'm not sure if it's my imagination or not, but I was certain that there was a strapless bra that made me look good only a couple of months ago. And now, that bra just kind of sits there and does nothing. In fact, all of my bras are too big on me now. Where did my boobs go?
I can only surmise that it is the yoga. The pulling and stretching. And there is no way that I want to stop the yoga. I remember last summer when a doctor had the audacity to suggest as much. Asshole.
I'm really honestly kind of depressed about this.
And I've begun to toy with the idea of having the implants removed and having all the scar tissues eradicated and just going with pre-pubescent flat-chested. Ribs and nibs, minus the nibs, I guess. Or, maybe with. Who knows.
I can't go back to Dr. S, the one who did the silicone reconstruction a few years ago. He really offended me, and I don't want to get into that. I don't care if he is a good plastic surgeon. Bedside manner matters to me. Besides, maybe he isn't such a good plastic surgeon for me - his work ultimately failed on me, after all.
I could go back to Dr. A, not because I necessarily want him to do the re-re-reconstruction. But because I think it might be useful, and kind of low-stress, for me to return to the original doctor who was there at the very very very beginning of all this. He was the one who gave me the original saline implants. He was present at the original surgery giving rise to the need for the implants. So, a consult with him might be useful with regard to removal of the scar tissue and at least achieving a smoother result. Plus, I can bitch to him freely, since I know him for a long time, or at least I did. It might also be fun to just turn up at his office: alive.
Wow, I feel better having just gotten all that off my chest, er, to have expressed all that turmoil.
Monday. I will call Monday. Now that I have this resolved in my head, I need to do it now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But Monday will have to do.
Posted at 10:46 PM
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Yesterday, a very quick Second Series practice, minus Standing Series. I know that seems odd, but I did Sun Salutations in the morning then had to stop and do other things. When I came back to the yoga later in the day, I already felt very warm and didn't feel like running through the Sun Salutations again, or any of Standing for that matter. I just got right into it. And it was fine. Some days are like that.
Today, I kind of sleepwalked into my yoga room and began. Before I knew it, I had finished Primary, and barely 50 minutes had elapsed. Had I gotten the time wrong? I was just about to do backbends when I got a phone call from upstairs (it's ridiculous, I know, but the yoga room is pretty damn soundproof, given that it is constructed partially within the house's concrete foundation) saying that the baseball game for tonight was cancelled. So, I got back to practicing, did Second up to Kapotasana plus a LOT of backbend research. I used my trusty step-ladder, and I strapped my legs, then my arms, then my legs and my arms. And I wonder if I will ever bother backbending again WITHOUT a strap.
Feeling all energized, I went outside afterwards and cleared the weeds out of two beds (that I haven't photograped yet, since neither is in flower). One is looking good - the Catmint is starting to bloom, and behind the Catmint are a cluster of pink Astilbe. Catmint loves sun, and it gets sun. But this bed peaks out from under a tree, so behind the Catmint it's all shade: hence, the Astilbe. I transplanted a whole bunch of Columbine seedlings around another shady edge of that bed. We shall see how they do. But I am spurred on by the amazing Columbines in my woodland garden. They seem to have taken off without any help on my part at all, except for the initial planting.
The other bed I tended to today is sorely disappointing. At the back are some evergreen shrubs: Boxwood alternating with Andromeda. Next to that is ivy climbing a bare wall and in front of that, a trellis with a beautiful, young Wisteria. In front of all that, I had thought that I would create a cutting bed of Zinnias, my favorite summer annual. But having planted hundreds of Zinnias, only a handful have come up. And they're all concentrated around the front edge of the bed, leading me suspect that the bed does not get enough sun for Zinnias. I'm not convinced yet, however, since it has barely been sunny at all this spring. Tomorrow, if I am still motivated, I am going to transplant a whole mass of Foxglove seedlings. Foxgloves can handle part-sun.
I also have a bunch of Hollyhock seedlings which I am not sure what to do with. I think they need sun, like Zinnias do.
Must think. Man, I am so much more obsessed with my flower gardening than I am with yoga.
I should call myself Aesthetic Gardening Chickie.
Posted at 9:33 PM
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Not in that order. Sunday, I got on the mat for the first time after six days off the mat - I had a really bad cold, the worst I have had in years. I could barely get out of bed for a couple of days there, and even now, I sound terrible, even if I am feeling mostly better. Did Half Primary, then three backbends, then closing. It was fine.
Yesterday, having only done Half Primary the day before, I was hungry for more asana, but I kept it to Primary and then a lot of backbends, then closing. Uneventful except to note that my back was bendy, but my wrists are still not great. I really don't know what the problem is with my wrists, but I assume that the bendier my back is, the less the wrists will matter.
Today, I was exhausted and sore, but I got myself to the mat anyway. Since I wasn't up for all the vinyasas of Primary, and I was curious as to what it would feel like to do three different practices in three different days, I did full Second, starting immediately after Parsvotanasana. Since I was also pressed for time, I made myself just plow right through it and not do any extra prep for anything. And you know something? It was awesome.
I love how I have no particular attachment to any poses in Second Series. I can't have any taken away, and I can't be given any. I know that Kapotasana isn't happening now, or maybe ever, or maybe just now. We shall see. And I couldn't care less about Karandavasana, so I just enjoy holding Pincha Mayurasana twice, each for 10 breaths. Finally, I know that Eka Pada comes and goes, but that even if I have to hold my leg in place with one hand, it doesn't matter because I am not looking to practice the Third Series poses where you have to keep the leg there without hands. Hence, no attachment. I just don't care, the way I used to not care when I took vinyasa classes and Bikram classes, and there was no linear agenda.
No linear agenda. Very very nice.
Bottom line, it was a great practice, and it went super-fast. From start to finish, less than 60 minutes, and I was sweating my ass off (which helped immensely in Yogi Nidrasana and Tittibasana C, but not so much in Mayurasana).
Posted at 4:47 PM
Sunday, June 07, 2009
These were taken at the same time of year - late May/early June. What a difference a year makes. There is one weird thing...in a way, I feel nostalgic for the bare, empty gardens. They had so much potential, they filled the mind with so many ideas, so much inspiration. It's like seeing my kids go from babies to teens. It's a tiny bit bittersweet...
There's more, but I need to locate the before photos...and also take some 2009 photos when some other flowers come into bloom...
Posted at 3:13 PM
"I don't have anything on my lips. My daughter tells me that I have horrible things written about my lips, my leathery skin, and my tits. So, whatever. My lips look big because I over-line them with lip liner because I want to look like Angelina Jolie. My skin is leathery because I love the sun and I'm not as vain as I am in love with the sun. And my tits got really big because I had a baby and then they got really small and then they got really big again because I had another baby and then they got really small and then they got really big because I had another baby and then they got really small. You know what? It's called aging. So, I guess that would be nice to clarify."
I just LOVE this woman.
Posted at 12:03 PM
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
I have a cold. A bad cold. Probably the most uncomfortable cold symptoms I have had in a year or more. I did not practice yesterday because I didn't want to, and I had practiced every day of the preceding five days. But last night, as I lay in bed with my scratchy throat and post nasal drip, I realized that my muscle soreness and joint stiffness was due to the cold, not due to the yoga.
Today, I rested again, although it wasn't a restful rest with a morning pediatrician appointment, a noontime trip to The Home Depot to pick out doorknobs and shower trim for the construction project downstairs, and an afternoon shivah call (that's pronounced SHIH-vuh, not SHEE-vah, and it's a Jewish condolence call).
I feel like hell.
Posted at 6:58 PM
Monday, June 01, 2009
Is there one?
I haven't been reading the blogs much and have been trying to catch up a bit and saw, perhaps out of context, a number of bloggers trying out "cold dropbacks".
Why would anyone want to do that? If you want an excuse to stop practicing yoga for a while, you don't need to get yourself injured...
Am I missing something?
Posted at 1:06 PM
VISIT ME AT MY NEW ADDRESS, YA'ALL!
- Yoga Chickie
- Northern Westchester, New York, United States
- I live by a duck pond. I used to live by the East River. I don't work. I used to work a lot. Now, not so much. I used to teach a lot of yoga. Now not so much. I still practice a lot of yoga though. A LOT. I love my kids, being outdoors, taking photos, reading magazines, writing and stirring the pot. Enjoy responsibly.
- Modifications, Flexibility, Strength...it's not ab...
- Getting clean
- How to Do Ashtanga
- Enough with the whining and bitching
- She was thin, thin, thin.
- so pretty...so natural...so bye bye
- SOO depressing
- Existential questions
- frazzled. broken. optimistic.
- Rest Day, sort of, and kind of bummed
- Yesterday and today
- Today, yesterday and the day before.
- Last year, this year
- Gabrielle Anwar on vanity and aging...
- I can't belive I JUST found this...
- The excuse
- There are no words.
- I need an Easy Button for backbends
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