Just Breathe

In an effort to fix my posture (sitting hours on end hunched over a keyboard does not do wonders for my back) I’ve started to do more yoga. I suppose part of that is because lately as I do more in class, I discover more about myself, the way I operate and in some cases how stupid I am.

In class, I never question whether or not I can do a pose. If the teacher says it, I give it a try. Sometimes I pay the next day, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I discover new fun and amazing tricks to astound my friends at parties, sometimes I learn just how incredibly close my head is in relation to my ass.

And then there are times when it seems everything is right in the world. Somehow, bending upside down on my pink-with-purple-paisley yoga mat while staring at my ugly feet just really brings out the best in my life. I don’t know how, but it does.

After those classes, I go home physically taller, more relaxed than ever…and very thirsty after having dehydrated myself all day by drinking tea.

And then there are times when everything is wrong in the world. Those days where I can’t balance on one foot to save my life. Or I go into a lunge and swear I tore something. I don’t know why this happens, but I’ve found that it correlates to writing, too.

No matter what, everything shall pass. The show must go on. I just gotta remember to keep breathing. Believe me, pushing up, over and backward in order to climb down a wall is not a moment when breathing is quite as near the forefront as trying not to land on my head!

But hey, a couple classes ago, I climbed down the wall and right back up–without any help.

All I did was breathe.

The show does go on.

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