This is what I dislike about aging.
My days are shorter.
I don’t mean my life ahead is shorter, although of course it is. I try not to think about that, but now that you mention it, yikes, yes. Do I have 10 more years, possibly 15 more years before I’m totally decrepit? Continue reading
Sometimes I can feel my bones straining under the weight of my thoughts. And that’s wrong, all wrong, so I strain more in the down dog position, where my arms and wrists and shoulders take on the weight of my trunk.
My trunk. What a word for my body, which is pack full of multi-grain toast now at 9 in the morning, as well as three cups of hot green tea that have not found a way to warm my fingers, cold down to the bone. Continue reading
I wake up groggy this morning because of the allergy meds my doctor prescribed. I’m not sure which is worse, though: trying to sleep with a stuffed-up nose, or feeling a bit nauseous all night from the meds.
So I’m elated when the clock finally turns to 5 a.m. I jump out of bed, remembering “I have yoga today!”
The night-time anti-congestion pill has worn off by the time I’m sipping my first cup of tea, though, and I begin to worry. Continue reading
Until recently, I had no idea how to undertake the fish.
You know, the yogic Fish Pose.
Over the years, I’ve gotten better at Down Dog and the Plank, and strong enough to accomplish shoulder stands and to hold an Up Dog for five minutes.
But my past yoga teachers never taught Fish Pose. Continue reading
“I need to teach you something, Madre. Now!”
I notice the twinkle in 5-year-old Neville’s eyes and I figure he’s found a spider, or another grub, and wants to teach me how to hold it without squirming . . . . or screaming. Continue reading
roughwighting 