Note: Thanks to you all for the emails. Sorry I have not written back – I haven’t had much energy.
I have been in a funk of late and have not been able to think of anything worth writing. I am still in this weird little place of weak sunshine and am being gently pushed and pulled and nudged by BB to simply deal. One of the ways she gently prodded was by sending me a video that basically said “you’re alright kid – at least you have both arms and legs” and which had the desired effect of getting me to write again.
Several situations led to this funk, none of which are worth mentioning in detail. I wandered off for a bit, choosing to travel rather than deal; weird this because I have never been one not engaging in a necessary conversation. But this time? This time I was both too tired and too indignant to be bothered. (Sidebar: The sentiment “not bothered” does not have a long standing history in my world. As I am a Libra in Scorpio, I am equal parts asshole and kind, wrapped up in a whole lot of passionate. Ergo, I have a hyper-sense of justice and so when feeling wronged, my response is nine times out of ten extremely fierce.)
As expected, the travel provided a sense of ibuprofen relief and made for some excellent times away with folks I love.
I figured that I needed a way to strengthen just a teeny tiny bit the character of me that I loathe; the one who is affected all too deeply and painfully by the waves created from such above-mentioned situations. I don’t wish to be thrown for a loop as often as I am, like a weird little kid trying to put on her red lipstick, constantly being bumped from behind and smudging herself instead, turning around saucer-teary-eyed looking for the bumping culprit who is dressed as the Hamburglar.
So. How do I regain control over the saucer-teary-eyes?
Do something which forces me to reposition and swing in to ‘it’s all sensation’. (As I type, there’s a faerie sitting on my nose, clapping with glee.)
Ultimately, we have some control over how we react to outside situations – I may be a hard-ass, but I am not enough of one to bootcamp human emotion and flail about declaring we control ALL of our emotional responses, because we don’t (and I’m not entirely certain they would be called ’emotions’ if they were 100% controllable). We can dull our reactions, we can manage them and we can understand them, but sometimes pain is pain and we don’t know where it comes from or how to turn away from it. I think the trick here is to ensure that we don’t let that pain take over for extended periods of time or else some greater asshole will try to stick your lesser asshole self on happy-times-until-you-committ-suicide medication.
What was this something, then, that I chose?
I have chosen to do hot yoga every single day for six weeks.
I call it Maha’s Six Week Challenge because I lack imagination.
I am on day four and I am – thus far – loving it intensely. Strangely, at the end of every class, I find myself crying like a little pansie-person, and just discovered that this is not unheard of. Figuring that my body was starved for that kind of release, it was that class and that reaction which solidified my commitment to The Challenge. (Quite likely, I would have made it 8 weeks, but I am outside of Canada later in November and for most of December.)
I understand I sound a little peace-pipe-y here, and so will close by providing you with the following imagery. When in class, I am often flanked by Slippy, Snoozy, Grunty, Farty, Make-Up Is My Friend-y and I Like Brazilian Waxes-y. Slippy is the (undoubtedly lovely) individual who slips and either falls alone or takes down another; Snoozy snores every time we are either in Savasana, Child’s Pose or Cobra; Grunty can’t get through the Savasana without mimicing ‘I am moving a boulder with my bare hands’ in noise; Farty is full of escaping gas either of the slow & long embarrased or fast & poppy embarrased variety, followed by an “oh. oops.”; Make-Up Is My Friend-y shows up to hot yoga with a full face of make-up on, and walks out of class looking like the Character Clown known as Namaste (I just made that up); and, I Like Brazilian Waxes-y wears her shorts small enough that we all know just how she likes to party down there, and is partially responsible for Slippy.
xo kids, and thank you for your extended patience re my long break from posting
Image from The Seattle Times