donutszenmom.com

Hey Suzie C, if you are reading this, I wanted to give you slightly more detailed info re: finding the shala. I know you have good enough directions to get to the strip mall, but here’s some more info. The center of the mall is ProTan. If you are standing at the bottom of the stairs that lead to ProTan, look down and to your right. You’ll see a wig store called…oh heck, I can’t remember. They have a huge sign that says, “Hair Something Something,” and then there’s a little sign next to that that says, “DFC.” We’re in there. If you get there early, you’ll see VBG standing at the front desk looking at the AZ Republic while everyone wanders in. If you come in once the majority of folks have shown up, the front desk area may be empty. Just go past the desk and then take a left. At the end of the hallway, take a right and you’ll see us in the back room.

My office has summer hours, which is great. The place closes up at 2PM. The downside is that Fridays are madhouses, as everyone tries to get stuff done before close of business. Usually I end up there past 2, which is kind of cool, because it’s quiet and the air-conditioning goes off, which is a lovely change of pace because the office is generally kept at refrigerator temperature. Today, though, I left on time because I wanted to go to the mall and find some new pants. Now that I have clogs, my pants, which I got for flat shoes, are too short. And while I may be willing to be a dork who wears clogs, I am NOT willing to be a dork who wears clogs with pants that are too short.

For a long time I thought I wore a size 4. Actually, back in the bodybuilding days, I did wear a 4. I also weighed about 15 pounds more than I do now. So I gave up the lifting and started practicing and somehow I just couldn’t quite figure out why my size 4 clothes were too big. I didn’t want to wear a 2, because it seemed… I don’t know, unseemly, I guess. Not mature. I don’t mind wearing small jeans, but I feel dopey wearing teeny business clothes. Anyhow, I did finally break down and buy size 2 business clothes. Except, yes, you know what I’m going to say: they are kind of big, too. I went to Express today and tried some slacks, size 2. No go. So I gave the 0s a whirl and they fit. I really didn’t want to buy them, though, in the weird reverse of the I-don’t-want-to-buy-shoes-bigger-than-7 1/2 rule. So I went to The Gap and found some 1s. I know I’m supposed to be happy about this, but mostly it makes me feel uncomfortable.

In my last post, I wrote about how I’m not feeling nauseated or breaking out in cold sweats during backbends anymore. gartenfische asked whether I used to get nauseated because backbends are hard, or whether it was an emotional thing. That’s a really interesting question. And I don’t really know the answer. I do know that the first time I had that reaction (intense nausea and cold sweats) was when I was learning to do free squats with pretty heavy weights. My brother, who was my trainer, explained that it was a reaction from stressing my nervous system. So I always chalked that reaction up as a physical thing, but then I had it happen a few times on really scary climbs. I chalked those nausea-episodes up to an emotional reaction. Looking back, though, I see that the weightlifting wasn’t just about physical stress; I was also scared about crashing and burning under a pile of heavy weights. And the climbing nausea wasn’t just about being emotional about finding myself clinging to a high cliff; it was also because I was exhausted from hiking to the climbing spot (often a 2-3 hour ordeal… in the desert… in the summer) and at least mildly dehydrated from the climb. So my reaction to backbends, I imagine, was both physical (I’m not a natural backbender and don’t tend to use my body that way) and also emotional (I can get anxious when I’m trying new things). Since (0v0) is away in NYC, and likely not reading blogs, I won’t taunt her by adding a spiritual interpretation of my malady.

“Keep this,” VBG said this morning, pressing his hand between my shoulderblades after the last prasarita. I pulled my shoulderblades together even more tightly, and he said, “Don’t stress it that much.” So I backed off a bit but kept the “shoulders engaged” energy.

And I stayed with it throughout practice. All I could think was that it felt like I was pushing my heart more to the center of my body. From the back. Aw, I can’t explain it well. Suffice it to say, it was a different kind of core awareness, a heart core.

I think I was heart-sensitive because I was worrying about My Gift. Apparently she slipped on the stairs at work on Wednesday, and caught herself using her right arm, wrenching her shoulder. Back when she was 16 and had a bout with lupus, there was some damage to her right shoulder. So the little accident at work has left her very sore. And me rather worried. It’s funny how when your kid is sick, it helps immensely just to go look at them. Now that she’s out of the house, I don’t have that option. I’m sure I would have peeked into her room this morning before practice, just to see if she was sleeping well. Not that I would have been able to tell anything about her injury just by looking, but somehow it settles your mind.

During primary these days, I think about a paperclip. That’s what my back feels like, going from the forward bends into the up and down dog vinyasa, over and over. Just like one huge preparation for kapotasana. The back and forth bending of my back makes me think of how you can bend a paperclip back and forth, loosening it up. It’s very funny, how primary feels nice and soothing — I am at a point now where I don’t feel panicky about the upcoming intermediate poses. I lull myself with the primary and then just make a point not to think / freak myself out during the intermediate poses and dropbacks. One thing I noticed this morning (and am VERY grateful for): I no longer get the nauseous, cold sweats feeling I used to get during all the backbends.

Lately my little morning aches are simply about feet, shins and forearms. Weird, huh? I have no idea what I’m doing to stress my shins and forearms, but there you have it. I can not (and will not!) complain. I still remember the year of practicing with horribly inflamed hamstring inserts. I still marvel, too: what kept me going through all of that pain?