You know how it feels when you have a bruise and you poke it?

(It hurts, for those of you not in the habit of poking yourself in the bruise).

Well, my whole body (with the possible exception of the soles of my feet and my face) feels like a giant bruise that is being poked right now.  I know I said I was going to re-become a person who does yoga, but ow.  I do not use the muscles involved in the bakasana (crow pose) on a regular basis and my body today is all, “no way…no way!”

Bakasana or crow pose, for those of you not in the yoga-know, is a pose that literally involves hoisting your body up off the ground and balancing it on your lower arms.  Of course, let’s not get carried away – I did no hoisting yesterday, just some aggressive leaning, because I cannot do bakasana.  This lack of doing has not, however, lessened the pain.

Bakasana Pose

Seriously, Yoga - I ain't never seen no crow looking like this, you know?

I have a busy life; today I actually had to go to work for TWO hours, vegetable garden, swim, read the second book of Game of Thrones (not to mention go and get the second book of Game of Thrones), practice my guitar and sit out in the sun to try to improve my tan.  I cannot be waddling through this kind of packed schedule.

And let’s face it – waddling is probably the most flattering description I can give to my walk today.

I know, I know – the more I stay a person who does yoga, the less pain I will experience after each session.  I will continue with the yoga, I swear.

But oh, oh, oh…the pain.




Welcome to yoga week*!

This evening (and probably the reason why yoga is our theme) I attended my first yoga class in about four months.  For a period of about six months last year, I was a Person Who Does Yoga (PWDY).  I took classes, I practiced at home, and I became convinced that I (like Elizabeth Gilbert) would one day abandon my life for a few months to live on an ashram in India.

Alas, as I do with so many things, I fell off the wagon.  Stopped going to classes, stopped practicing at home, and faced the cold hard truth that Elizabeth Gilbert’s life is ridiculous and that I will continue to live in an apartment in Rhode Island and hold down a job because there are no publishing companies about to give me a jumbo cash advance so that I can live for a few months on an ashram in India.

Continue reading