Thursday, February 23, 2012

TULIPS AT THE DELI

11: 49 p.m.



I guess a definition of pessimism is feeling the large problems unleavened by anything positive. The good stuff probably comes under the radar in that  "not known, not looked for / But heard, half-heard in the stillness / between two waves...".  The issue is, one supposes, to see that positive trend, hear that possibility, and to follow it. Reminds me of the Louvin Brothers song that I learned from Emmylou Harris, You're Learning. However the lyrics have nothing to do with my learning to move toward the positive. The harmonies are beautiful, though, and the last refrain, "Yes, you're learning." is cool

Because I have not mentioned or checked in on the progress here, I'll give you a little report card. Dishes are done. Walk was taken. Books returned to the library. Netflix disc mailed (the new version of Brighton Rock. Very depressing, but Helen Mirren with red hair!) Posted to blogs. Worked on book with KaHug. Sold some items. I even worked at CodeAcademy on JavaScript.

And I even did some yoga. Interesting how that practice just falls away when the going gets toughish. I must learn to prioritize that, but why don't I do it? Because it causes me to slow down? And that's not instantly desirable why? I complain about how stressed and tired I am, yet it would seem as if I am not taking advantage of some relaxation easily within my budget and skill set. Calming your mind in order to get your mind calm.

Realizing that another day had gone by with more solitaire than yoga, I just stopped after my teeth brushing, face pampering (another new to do), and thought "why not start with even two or three minutes of tadasana?" Small, incremental steps if need be.

As I stood quietly, I was (and I mean this) blessed with the voices of my teachers (Susannah, Dana, Kira) gently correcting me, grounding me. I could make the adjustments. I could sink more deeply into the simple pose of standing still. And then, in that stillness and breath, came some tears. I started to trace the cause, but then returned my attention to stretching my toes and ankles. The tears just came. And then stopped. I moved into a slow forward bend, and lo! I could touch my toes (don't think I could last time I tried). Then Emmylou curled and snaked in between my ankles as best she could to see if petting was an option. (It was.)

And now to bed, in a slightly calmer, more positive frame of mind.

There were tulips at the deli.




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