Just got done doing some yoga with Cheryl.
She’s been doing it twice a week for like a year… This morning she’s like, “Hey, wanna do some yoga?” I’d already built a fire, made coffee, made bfast, and gotten some bass practice in. I was all jazzed and scattered, as I usually am.
So fifteen minutes later, I figure, ‘yes, I should do this. Who knows… might even enjoy it.”
We roll out our brand new yoga mats (Cheryl got me one with buddha’s face on it… kick ass) and I put on Donna Delory’s remix disc. Cool.
“Let’s start with a 2 or 3 minute meditation,” she says.
F&#k. Don’t want this b%@@&hit. Just wanna GO. But I’ll keep my mouth shut.
Wonder how long I can keep my mouth shut.
Argh! This is B*%%@#IT! I can’t keep quiet much longer!
What if it were Jason leading me right now? Oh… then it would be great. I wouldn’t have any complaints at all.
Hmmm… Why is that? Why am I hesitant to follow Cheryl’s guidance?
Okay. I’m chill.
Better hurry up, though.
Okay… just a little longer.
“Opening your eyes gently, let’s do some head rolls.”
Ahhhh… thank goddess.
Finally, we got moving. Did about thirty minutes, and that was good enough for me. And strangely, I felt calm, cool, and focused. Amazing.
Cheryl continued her routine and I went back and did some more tree pose. Little chunk of firewood on the floor served as my drishti. “Pick your drishti!” someone once told me, back in 2004. I still remember.
Yoga is good.
Why am I so resistant to that which is good in my life?