Recently I went to my first yoga class. The instructor began by teaching us how to give ourselves a rest.
"Breath deeply and let your bodies settle into the mat."
I listened to my own breathing. I melted flat as wax.
Then the oddest thing happened. My eyes kept filling with tears.
‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’, I asked myself. ‘Are you insane? Stop it!’
But you know what it is? It's the beginning and the ending. The laying flat and breathing. It took me by surprise that first time. For me the in between only serves to build up your thirst for the end. Every muscle in my body shakes with fatigue. It's like a glass of chocolate milk after a peanut butter sandwich.
How crazy is that? I could lay flat and breath almost anywhere, but I don't I guess. I do lots of other things. Read, write, watch Law & Order, wash dishes, search for a needle in the Jdate haystack, clean up, think about what to wear tomorrow, pack my lunch, invent recipes, burn CDs, look things up, cook, think, think, think, shower, take a bath, wash the floor, talk on the phone, make lists, masturbate, sleep, worry, ruminate (ok that's just more thinking)...
Sometimes it is the simplest thing that is closest to perfect. It's even greater to be able to recognize it when it comes. Yoga gives me more than a good excuse to wear Lululemon. And trust me, I didn't need one.