say whuuuut

My massage person yesterday was the much-dreaded Talker. She asked if I was comfortable (lying face down with the warmer on, I said yes), if I had big weekend plans (oh god, I thought, hesitating--do I say don't talk to me, please don't talk to me--and finally said, mmhmm) and then she said boy, I hope the weekend will be nice. I elected not to answer. The silence felt awkward at first, then less so, and then I slipped into a sort of meditative peace. At the end, I tipped generously and moved back into the world with a deliciously-relaxed ease.
I felt similarly at peace on Thursday night. A friend and I volunteered as ushers with Homo for the Holidays' opening night. We helped set up chairs, direct people to will call and the bathroom, checked hand stamped, and pick up empty glasses. In between we sat in the back and enjoyed the two-hour show, a heady mix of burlesque, comedy, parody, and sheer talent. It was my first time seeing Cherdonna (!!). Not to mention, a sexy Santa striptease, delicious temptations Candy and Cookie, and the selfie-obsessed pronouncements of Waxie Moon as the Sugarplum Fairy. The "Uptown Funk" rip-off was amazingly en pointe. It felt so good to laugh and cackle and get a little scared of the Grim Reaper and admire the jaw dropping physiques. I walked down from the Hill feeling happy and comforted. Not all is lost in the 206.
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Yesterday I watched "Tangerine," and fell in love. What story-telling! All in dialogue and raw acting.
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And today this yoga video, somewhere between vinyasa and yin yoga.

monkey mind

The only thing keeping me running these days is yoga.
Specifically, yin yoga. Such a treat for sore knees and tight hammies.
Holding a pose for 3 or 4 minutes is surprisingly tough; I find it much easier to grind through the sweaty warrior 2's and chatarunga's of a vinyasa class.
Yin yoga helps me shut off the monkey mind, swinging from thought to thought, rehashing grievances, worrying about what-not, solving nothing.
It ain't perfect but it's something.
This practice is one of my faves:


My agenda on this rainy Saturday: writing, thinking, and maybe a coconut-nog latte.

the view

The rejections continue to roll in. It's vexing. I need--what? More time, more energy, more creativity?
More something.
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Have I mentioned yoga before? I try to get to a class once a week, try to do some on my own, with videos that don't make me want to throw my laptop out the window. My fave right now is this delightful lady. She starts each practice with, "Namaste, beautiful yogis."
I dunno about the medical evidence for yoga but it feels good to stretch, to work within what I can do, to breathe deep and open up and lean into the pain.
That said--I'm not a fan of yoga people.
What--who--are yoga people?
I have this idea that they are ascetically snobbish, bending their knees behind their heads and looking down on the rest of us in our tight, constricted little lives.
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A good friend recently returned from a trip overseas building houses. She told me about hating to return to her sterile life and I realized the smugness has set in with me again.
My view on life needs adjusting.
I need to adjust my view on life.