It’s been a while since I’ve been in the habit of blogging. I get stopped by the slow internet speed at my house, therefore I choose other things to do, like write songs, or get chased by dogs. But like songs, I always want my blog entries to be humorous, informative or inspiring, which means I set the bar high to begin with, which can be a challenge when I sit down to share my thoughts on a blank page. I’ve been re-learning lately that it’s best not to think about any of that stuff and just speak. off the cuff. from the heart.
I always prefer my songwriting be this method. Not thinking that is. Trading in clever for truth. I approach the process not asking, “What you do want to write about?” and instead ask, “What’s going on?” Real life, even a somewhat routine and boring life, if honored honestly, provides plenty of great material.
For example, one day I was planning to sit down at my desk with a guitar and create something new, but I didn’t know what it would be. And I was dreading it. I wanted to work in the yard and play outside longer. I’d just prefer not to say anything at all, let alone put myself through the agonizing process of birthing a song. But when I sat down, I wrote about exactly what was going on with me. I wrote about about not wanting to quit doing whatever stupid thing I was doing. The end result was a song called, Don’t Wake Me From This Dream and it quickly became a global smash. Or, popular in my house at least. Anyway, I roll my eyes when I think about who I was to not want to sit down and let the song come through. I love happy endings. I just loathe the beginnings.
I go to a hot yoga class as often as my schedule and snooze alarm allows. That’s my version of a gym. It’s there I lively-up myself, refilling the body and the brain with new blood in order to approach each day with a freshness, a newness and a now-ness.
All classes end by the teacher asking you to lay down on your back in savasana, the final resting pose. This is to “receive all the benefits of the class.” Muscles relax. Blood and oxygen circulate. You’ve turned your mat and towel into a sweaty, juicy bed and now you get to lie in it. Some people snore at this point. Some people look around and check out other people’s boobs. Me, I’m usually light-headed and dizzy, grateful I made it through yet another 90 minute class without giving up the ghost. And overall, I feel… alive. And that I figure, is the benefit of the practice. It always has a happy ending.
So let’s say your practice is something else, like model ship building, the kind where you build your boat inside an empty bottle of Captain Morgan’s. That task is challenging as well. But you stick it out. You make one move at a time until you get to the end and literally put a cork in it. It’s then that you receive all the benefits of the build. The benefit is you, alive, experiencing another goal met; another task done; another sail raised in a bottle going to grandma’s. Well done you.
And so this morning as I was resting in savasana, it occurred to me, no matter how challenging I may think it is, I should just write a new blog post already. About whatever’s going on. And post it. Just take it thought by thought, without thinking, and let it be. And then, when it’s done, not only I, but MANY could receive the benefits. Because, in summary, the benefit IS the happy ending. Am I right? Or am I running this theme into the ground?
Before I began click-clack-tippity-typing all this down, I thought I would make better use of my technology and dictate the words into my new iPhone while I drove home from yoga, assuming it would do all the manual labor for me while I ate an açai bowl and drove with my knee.
Here’s what my phone managed to capture.
“Doing yoga on Morosgo almost every day Oreo the creation of shallow then I have other out if Maury out during this period my life and head stay long for 2009 in yoga and ask you to lay down on your back”
Maybe I had too much açai in my mouth.
I think where I was headed was to say: I’ve heard lately that some parents are forbidding schools to teach yoga. I guess it’s in fear of turning their children into witches or something. This is a bummer. As an adult, looking back at what I know now, and based on how I feel today as a practitioner of yoga, I wish my school had added yoga when I was in kindergarten. Along with pole dancing.
My request: If there’s anyone out there who loves lululemon and knows anyone at the school districts, speak up on behalf of yoga. It’s basically stretching and isometrics, the same you would find during a warm-up for square dancing or dodge ball, but organized in a way that will improve the health and mentality of every practitioner and not insult them. It’s non-aggressive, non-competitive, non-religious, and nowhere near dangerous. I’ve never seen anyone sprain an ankle or break a nose in a yoga class. If anything it teaches compassion, patience and focus. And humility. If you fart.
Thanks for being awesome and reading this.
The post has now come to it’s final resting pose.
I feel good that is it complete.
The same way I find happiness in a warm toilet seat.
It’s all good.
It’s been nice to catch up with you.
Have a Namasté.