tred lightly

People dig in their heels. It’s what we do. We take a position and suddenly we have to defend it. Why? Because.

So I have to be careful not to defend yoga as the cure-all for everything that feels off. I recall reading not too long ago that, if overplayed, yoga can do more harm than good. An important point to remember, especially for people like me who tend to leap rather than take small, cautious steps. 

You wont be surprised that I returned to yoga today. (In part, it’s the 'new member' deal – all the yoga you want in the month of September for $30.)

And again it felt better than great.

But... here’s the but. It takes time. On yoga mornings, I don’t get as much work done. And, too, there is Ed, reclining, not needing to do much of anything being retired as he is, which is quite wonderful except when he sets out to distract. With tomatoes, for example.

You think that's a lot? There are more. Triple that amount.

...and I say – stop! No more tomatoes! I cannot deal with them. I don’t have time! And, so long as we're on the subject of dealing with things,may I ask again why are you so difficult about the forthcoming wedding?

My daughter is marrying in three weeks and my oh my, is this ever incompatible with the ways and mores of Ed. And the more I care about his full participation, the less inclined he is to go along. So after the ever so gentle yoga, where I touch my eyes, my mouth and my heart to do all things well (I can’t remember what I’m supposed to do well, but let’s just say everything) I try to work and failing that, I try to establish an Ed commitment to various wedding events, and failing that, I retreat to the porch and lose myself in piddly stuff. Like reading reviews of yoga mats on Amazon.com.

Ed asks if it’s a good day for us to play tennis, clearly thinking that, given my retreating mood, it’s not. Initially I balk (I’m behind! My work is killing me! You wouldn’t understand!). But we go out, just him and me on the Honda...

... and we play one lousy game after another and eventually we end it and there’s tomato soup at home, a good home, where who does what and when rarely matters, where ceremonies come and go and one person wants this and the other wants something else, and we stumble through it all and in the end we nod and smile because it is such a solid, fine home. A wonderful, beautiful home.

The doorbell rings. Hi Lee! Oh, thank you!