Yoga and More
Somehow it's only yoga that gets me blogging these days, it seems.
So, here's tonight's yoga report.
Tonight I went to my favorite yoga studio in my new neighborhood. I knew that the teacher that night, Soothing Guy (also known as D.--see previous post), was not going to be there because he was performing somewhere (he is a dancer as well as a yoga teacher). The woman at the desk seemed momentarily nonplussed when I asked, somewhat importantly, "There is class, isn't there? Because I know Soothing Guy is not here." Then the guy who had taught the previous class said, "Oh, that's right, he's in a performance." The woman at the desk started paging through the schedule to see if there was a sub scheduled. "Someone should be filling in for him," she said, "but I'm not sure who." She added, "Don't go away," to the other teacher.
It turned out there was a sub scheduled, but by the time class was supposed to start, she hadn't turned up, so the teacher from the previous class, let's call him Goatee Guy, stepped in. He seemed like a nice person, also very calm but with a slightly different style than Soothing Guy, so I was curious to see what he was like as a teacher.
The class was good, a little hard for me, though. I actually felt a little discouraged through much of the class, very aware of my creaky left knee and various other hindrances. But by the end of the relaxation period I felt transported and comforted, as one does.
Afterwards I chatted a little bit with Goatee Guy, since we were the last ones to leave. (There were only two other students in the class, so it wasn't like there was a whole crowd.) He asked me how I was feeling, and I said that I felt good, that the class was really restorative. Then I said, "I need to come more." He said, in that neutral way really spiritual people have, "It's a process." Then he gave me some tips about just taking five minutes during the day to go to tadasana, mountain pose, just standing still and straight and calm, and being aware of one's breath, and how much that could help. I said that was a great idea and we walked out together.
Once outside, we were going in different directions, and as we parted, Goatee Guy said, "It was really great working with you." I felt touched by that, because I had been thinking I was so awkward during class, and I said, in a heartfelt way, "Same here." Then I added, "See you again."
After that, I felt I had to go have a beer (I told you there was more). I decided to go to this bar in the neighborhood that I like and that I thought I might feel comfortable going to alone. It has a sort of friendly, cultivated, nonscary vibe. The people seem (the times I've been there before) mostly younger than me but not exclusively--there seems to be a mix of younger and older people, and also gay and straight. So I went over there, peeked in the door, and decided it would be okay. Got a beer, and retreated to the sort of auxiliary side bar area against the wall. The bar area itself was pretty full but not mobbed, and I had this other area to myself, at first anyway.
To pass the time, and to seem as if I was doing something engrossing and not sitting a little awkwardly in a bar, a woman by myself, I wrote the following poems, by candlelight, on the back of an envelope, with a pencil that my sister brought back for me as a souvenir from a museum in Venice.
They are fib poems. (For more on fibs, which were all the rage on this blog a while ago, see here.)
1.
In
the
only
bar in the
neighborhood it is
dark and cool and the songs are good.
2. Crazy Lady
She
ran
to the
back of the
bus in a shudder.
We pretended this was okay.
So, here's tonight's yoga report.
Tonight I went to my favorite yoga studio in my new neighborhood. I knew that the teacher that night, Soothing Guy (also known as D.--see previous post), was not going to be there because he was performing somewhere (he is a dancer as well as a yoga teacher). The woman at the desk seemed momentarily nonplussed when I asked, somewhat importantly, "There is class, isn't there? Because I know Soothing Guy is not here." Then the guy who had taught the previous class said, "Oh, that's right, he's in a performance." The woman at the desk started paging through the schedule to see if there was a sub scheduled. "Someone should be filling in for him," she said, "but I'm not sure who." She added, "Don't go away," to the other teacher.
It turned out there was a sub scheduled, but by the time class was supposed to start, she hadn't turned up, so the teacher from the previous class, let's call him Goatee Guy, stepped in. He seemed like a nice person, also very calm but with a slightly different style than Soothing Guy, so I was curious to see what he was like as a teacher.
The class was good, a little hard for me, though. I actually felt a little discouraged through much of the class, very aware of my creaky left knee and various other hindrances. But by the end of the relaxation period I felt transported and comforted, as one does.
Afterwards I chatted a little bit with Goatee Guy, since we were the last ones to leave. (There were only two other students in the class, so it wasn't like there was a whole crowd.) He asked me how I was feeling, and I said that I felt good, that the class was really restorative. Then I said, "I need to come more." He said, in that neutral way really spiritual people have, "It's a process." Then he gave me some tips about just taking five minutes during the day to go to tadasana, mountain pose, just standing still and straight and calm, and being aware of one's breath, and how much that could help. I said that was a great idea and we walked out together.
Once outside, we were going in different directions, and as we parted, Goatee Guy said, "It was really great working with you." I felt touched by that, because I had been thinking I was so awkward during class, and I said, in a heartfelt way, "Same here." Then I added, "See you again."
After that, I felt I had to go have a beer (I told you there was more). I decided to go to this bar in the neighborhood that I like and that I thought I might feel comfortable going to alone. It has a sort of friendly, cultivated, nonscary vibe. The people seem (the times I've been there before) mostly younger than me but not exclusively--there seems to be a mix of younger and older people, and also gay and straight. So I went over there, peeked in the door, and decided it would be okay. Got a beer, and retreated to the sort of auxiliary side bar area against the wall. The bar area itself was pretty full but not mobbed, and I had this other area to myself, at first anyway.
To pass the time, and to seem as if I was doing something engrossing and not sitting a little awkwardly in a bar, a woman by myself, I wrote the following poems, by candlelight, on the back of an envelope, with a pencil that my sister brought back for me as a souvenir from a museum in Venice.
They are fib poems. (For more on fibs, which were all the rage on this blog a while ago, see here.)
1.
In
the
only
bar in the
neighborhood it is
dark and cool and the songs are good.
2. Crazy Lady
She
ran
to the
back of the
bus in a shudder.
We pretended this was okay.
posted by Sarah Sometimes at 9:46 PM
3 Comments:
I've never heard of a fib poem before. Those are pretty cool.
When I was reading this, I was hoping the Goatee Guy would show up in the bar.
I really like the Crazy Lady poem.
Clowncar: Yes, they're fun.
jo(e): That would have been an interesting outcome....Glad you liked the poem.
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