Tonight after work I did a little yoga for relaxation. I got the idea from a newspaper article that promised "relaxation from summer stress." The air was warm and tasty outside so I used my trunk mat out of my car and sat out on the back patio of the funeral home, stretching in privacy behind the brick wall.
For fifteen minutes I did what's probably the 6 simplest yoga moves (seated eagle, lying pigeon, reclining butterfly, puppy pose, downward facing dog, and sphinx) in the world. If they were that hard surely they wouldn't have printed them in last Thursday's paper. I was in heaven--I couldn't hear the cars zooming by, only the birds and few dogs barking. Just me and my car mat. And the air.
After the six poses I texted Boots, "I love the air tonight. It feels so nice. Its like falling in love all over again."
"What song is that?" he replied back. I must be waxing poetic if my husband thinks its song lyrics I'm quoting to him when its actually me.
My last semester of high school, right before college, I had this crazy idea that learning yoga and growing bonsai trees would make me a cool roommate to whomever had the misfortune of winding up with me. I bought a mat, a couple of beginner books, a DVD, and subscribed to a yoga magazine all in the effort of learning yoga. I quickly fell off the yoga wagon after I figured out I wasn't as "spiritual" as you had to be. Exercise as religion ain't exactly my thing, I'm a Southern Baptist you know. (Insert fried chicken joke here.)
Tonight the yoga moves I did weren't about worshiping a tree or the air, I breathed deeply and basked in the setting sun, thinking about nothing, feeling the stretch. Maybe I should do this more often.
(Apparently I still have crazy ideas about yoga. Ayiyi.)