Most anyone would pick a yoga class by the instructor. Of
course. A teacher may really depress your interest
in going forth. When Ed and I went to classes some years back, we felt it was
like medicine: terrible tasting but good for you. You can’t continue for long
on that premise.
But there are many instructors that would work for me. And I
need something else: I need proximity and an enjoyable trek over. And so when I
search for a yoga lesson, I start close to home. In Fitchburg. A hop and a skip from the farmhouse.
But first, breakfast. Even as I'm hurrying to get going.
...while Ed takes his time.
And now it's 10:30 and I'm in a class with a group of very adept women.
The class is a tad fast paced. I’m not so quick that I can
slide from down dog to up dog to roll over dog (as you can tell, I’m not that familiar
with the terminology). I can’t become a warrior and open my heart and feel the vertebrae
sink into the mat all in one fell swoop. And still, I like the poses, I like
the language (I had no idea we carry most of our stresses in our hip! Why not –
I’ll go along. Out it goes! Good bye stress!), I like the fact that there is
plenty of space and the big windows look out on the prairie.
But what I like best – and this is why I will return, for
sure – is that when I get back on Rosie to head home, I am like a different being -- so relaxed that it's as if I can melt
right into her in the most comfortable way. We surge forward, with the wind in our faces, the
prairie fields flowing to the right, to the left, not much in the way of cars,
just Rosie and me, flying home. I do not remember ever enjoying a motorbike ride as much
as I enjoyed the one after the yoga class.
Feeling terribly noble (house cleaning before yoga, then the
stretches and the movement and the ommmmmm), I retire to the porch and watch
the chipmunks play and the humming birds chase each other before me.
Days like this are heaven sent. Ed and I talk more about
building out a front ‘winter deck,’ we read, work, talk some more...
...and now it's evening and the grill is heating pieces of charcoal and the mustard, sauerkraut, tomatoes (yes, lots of tomatoes!) are out. My girl and her fiance arrive and we sit out on the porch and eat chicken brats and local corn and watch the sun go down.
