I’m whipping this post out before I head over to the yoga studio for class. I love the woman teaching this morning. It’s amazing how someone just giving a simple but different cue for how to do a pose changes everything. One class, a couple weeks ago, she told us that it should feel weird, maybe wrong, to put pressure on the top of our heads when we start to do a headstand and that the more we do it, the sensation will grow less strange. Keep doing the awkward thing and the awkward becomes graceful. Or in my case, the awkward becomes a wobbly headstand against the wall. I love being upside down and being able to have a pose that replaces the handstands I used to do (but no longer can due to tendonitis), is immensely satisfying. Sure, it feels like an achievement, but it also feels like the first uncomfortable step towards the next goal. Onward and onward.
Tomorrow I’ll go to my parent’s house for dinner and have a glass of wine with dinner. I admit that I’m wholeheartedly looking forward to that. I also see that I can shift my relationship to alcohol. I think my goal now will be to focus on quality rather than quantity. Isn’t that always the better choice in just about everything? Maybe I’ll buy myself a bottle of Oban. Maybe I’ll start getting my beer at the specialty shop down the street, laying down top dollar for something really delicious that I will savor rather than squander.
28 days of sober yoga was a goal, but it was also the first small lunge in a lifetime of days where I get to return with intention, over and over, to where I am, what I know, where I might go. Over and over I repeat this mantra: This is my body. This is my breath. On some days, that is all the knowledge I need.