A Pause is not a Stop

So yesterday didn't go off, yoga-wise. I got up (almost) when intended, but when I got outside, I realized the grass was actually too wet to do yoga without a mat that early in the morning, so I brought my practice inside where I quickly remembered that I must use a mat inside. By that point, The Man was coming down, time was getting short (I worked yesterday), and I also felt hungry, so I aborted until after work, which would have been fine, really, except that I didn't realize I was working until 1:30, not 11:30. So after six and a half hours of wrangling special needs kids and getting home during the hottest part of the day, yoga just didn't happen.

And that's okay. Lesson number one for starting a new habit is believing that missing one time doesn't "ruin" anything or mean that you've failed, or that you have to start over. Of course, with anything physical too big a break does mean you'll have to go back a few steps, but that's okay too. It's all about the process. And not giving up.

Today, even though things didn't go off quite as planned schedule-wise, I did my practice. I'm concerned about making my morning practice work with having a "real" job (I came in and sat down at the computer to blog immediately post practice, long after I would have been at work), but that will come with time and...practice (see what I did there?). I'm also concerned about convincing myself to do sun salutations before the sun is up (I'm a pedant...sue me). Right now, that's generally fine, I could work my morning schedule around Lugh's appearance, but what about in the fall and winter? On days when I have to be at work at 7:30 and sunrise is at 7:28 practicing at/after sunrise isn't going to happen. I think I just need to get over that one.

Doing four rounds of Surya Namaskara felt about the same fatigue/effort-wise as doing two. Laying in Savasana I felt like my heart rate actually returned to normal a bit more quickly, although trying to keep my mind still whilst three flies buzzed around me in what sounded like quite the mating frenzy was difficult. I am rather excited to do my six tomorrow and see how it feels.

I also need to look at an evening practice... But enough speculating, my intention for my practice today was productivity. Time to go make that happen.

Namaste'

Sharing my Yoga Journey

I have done yoga sporadically for at least 15 years. You know how there are those things in life that you deeply enjoy when you are actively doing them, but somehow when you fall out of the habit, you dread getting back into it? Yoga is like that for me. I think (like many things in my life) I have some fear/anxiety wrapped up in it. Someday I'll figure out just where that comes from.

I do classes at a wonderful, accepting studio in Arvada. No matter how long I go between classes, they are always happy to see me back. I am not the only curvy yogini there, which I also love. The instructors are lovely and always willing to help with accommodations.

But...right now it is summer, therefore I am poor. :-) I have two or three classes left on my "punch" card, but I know that there may not be another until October, so I am hoarding those last few classes. I also know that I am happier and healthier when I practice, so...completely against my nature...I am actually starting a home practice. And I'm blogging about it to give myself incentive to actually keep on track.

I am a great starter, but a terrible finisher (hello fellow Aries...you know what I'm talking about, don't you?). That is why I love having classes to go to and love having a buddy to go with even more. It keeps me honest. You, my fellow netizens, get to be my yoga buddies and help keep me honest with continuing my practice.

Today I started doing Surya Namaskasra (Sun Salutation) in the mornings. I started with two (since any flow that doesn't itself repeat poses should be repeated leading with the opposite side of the body). Tomorrow, I plan to do four. Assuming that goes well, I will continue to add on by twos until I am struggling to finish my series, then I'll stick there until I can complete the series with ease. I haven't decided how long I want to go. Realistically, I think I need to also set a time limit based on reasonable expectations of getting my morning routine done once I'm back to work in the fall. I suppose the piece will come naturally once I have to be somewhere by some specific time.

Another thing about this new phase of my practice...I'm doing it outside. At the moment, our house backs onto an open space (we have the option to fence our very little piece of heaven at some point in the future). Practicing outside is what I want and need for the spiritual part of my practice whenever possible. I need the sun on my body and the ground under my feet. It also means that any neighbor who happens to look, shoot anyone who glances out of their car on the nearby street at the right time, can see me in all my fluffy glory doing yoga in my yard. Does this make me nervous? You bet. Am I doing it anyway. You bet.

Today was good...and hard... I didn't get out there until almost 9am (which clearly won't work when I'm working). Tomorrow, I think I'll get up with The Man (at 5am) and skip down and do my practice while he's showering.

It's all a process, right?

Namaste'.

A Hole in my Heart

My son is moving away from home. To New York. Imminently.

It’s a good move. He’s moving with a family we've known for years in part so one of his best friends can live away from home since his second Job Corps trade he was expecting to be able to take got sequestered out from under him. The original plan had been for him to be at Job Corps until he was 18, but now he’s going to be out at 17 and needed a roommate over 18 for his mom to be comfortable with him not living at home. The boys get along quite well and I believe my son will benefit from having the added responsibility of a younger roomie.

I also think my kid needs to get away from home. He’s trying to stretch his wings and fly, but coming from a broken home, he has two very different sets of ideals coming at him. I think some distance will allow him to find the parts of his father’s and my philosophies that speak to him without us right there on top of him while he does it. Distance =perspective, right? I think he needs some freedom to screw up without us right there to save him too. I like that he’ll get that with the safety net of near-family to catch him…it’s not a no-net situation, but the net may be farther away and looser knit that the one here.

I’m excited for him. I am: but the implications of him being gone really hit home this weekend as he packed up his belongings and put everything he wasn't taking with him into storage.  Seeing boxes full of my child’s belongings scattered through my living room made him no longer being in arm’s reach real in a way it wasn't before.

I am not a sheltering mom. I am nurturing and (sometimes) compassionate, but I also believe there is no greater teacher than experience. I am the mom who says, “Hey, I wouldn't do that if I were you. Really, if you do that you could hurt yourself. Oh hey, you hurt yourself; look at that. Come get some snuggles and calm down and let’s talk about how you got hurt. Did I say that was a bad idea, yes I did.”

But…I am so in love with this kid. He was my second born, the first child of my second marriage, thus the eldest of my second family. He’s funny and charming and, yes, a bit of a butt-head (damn kids…you raise them and then you know what? They ACT JUST LIKE YOU! Sheesh). To me, no matter how much taller than me he gets (he’s 18 1/2 he’ll grow more), or how old he grows (I was just expressing to The Man recently that I’m looking forward to seeing my kids as they get old), he will always be the chubby, jolly baby I let gnaw on frozen carrots to ease his teething pains, the toddler who taught himself to read a clock so he’d know what time things should happen and woe betide me if I told him I’d do something in five minutes and then take longer than that, the first grader who took the new kid under his wing, the middle schooler who fell in love with classical music, the high schooler who lived, ate, slept, and dreamed marching band.

He is my little boy…and he’s leaving home.

*sob*