Saturday, December 19, 2015

12/13-16/15: Emergence (Kind Of)

On the road again, Willie-style, and so I finally yoga'd somewhere other than my impromptu hermitage at the beach.

Though, like my last such outing, these sessions were notable only subjectively (and barely even then). Traveling between the Carolinas for both business and pleasure, I stayed at a couple comfortable, run-of-the-mill hotels, where I did my yoga privately in my respective rooms (I did have something in the way of an excuse, it being chilly out and me being hideously sensitive to cold nowadays). But, also like before, it was some wandering-yoga, when I'd not so much as attempted to wander for weeks (for me, the equivalent of a prison term). I guess the same goes for this blog post: flat, uninspired, and barren of substance, yet 100% better than no post at all.

I'm still sharing, at least. Can I get a golf clap?

(And yeah, not one, but two stock pictures, because I am once again out of the habit of snapping a post-yoga picture. How soon we forget ...)

Friday, December 18, 2015

11/24/15-12/12/15: Grounded

No, not grounded like coffee, nor a properly-wired outlet.

These last few weeks, I've been grounded like a disabled plane (or a misbehaving child, I suppose). That is, I've conducted my yoga entirely in private, and in the same spot (the secluded, window-shaded living room of that marsh-side trailer I seem so fond of, a total one-eighty from the summer months). Why has my quest for public yoga in interesting spots been put on hold? It's complicated. Or, I guess, quite simple: sometimes, life enters a rough chapter, and practicalities overtake such luxurious ventures.

As it were, the wandering yogi's life has just undergone such a scene-change, and it succeeded in disrupting his campaign.

But, then again, disruption is not conclusion. The story of one's life has many chapters, and a rough one does not mean the story is over. As I hinted at upon selling Kalki the RV, perhaps this yogi shall someday wander again.

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

11/22-23/15: At Last, Back on the Road

Okay, so it was just another trip to my hometown in the mountains. And, just a run-of-the-mill (albeit nice and accommodating) hotel. I even forgot to snap a picture for the blog (fallen out of the habit, it's been so long). But it was a trip, and much needed.

Beyond that, not much to say. So I'll keep it at, "I did yoga in a hotel room that was not, not where I'd been doing yoga daily for weeks while stranded by my RV-breakdown." Amen.

Monday, November 16, 2015

11/16/15: R.I.P., Kalki

Yes, Kalki the RV is no longer.

Well, perhaps that's a bit too morose. Rather, Kalki is no longer mine, now being under new ownership. How did I come to sell my beloved, most-of-the-time home? The answer is complicated, but it began several weeks ago, on my last trip with K, at the tail end of which it broke down. Long story short, I had it repaired, then it broke down again, then I had it repaired again -- and then, finally, for even more complicated reasons, I had to sell it off. Irony abounds.

Consequently, I've been stranded -- comfortably, but stranded no less -- in my family's beach-side vacation property for the duration. Obviously, this has affected my status as wandering yogi. With my mobility so limited, my yoga for the last month has been anything but migratory and expansive, being confined strictly to my hermetic little trailer. Again, not uncomfortable, but far from wandering-yogi. A yoga class would, presently, be more adventuresome.

What does this mean for the yogi himself, and his travels? Unknown. Though, that's not necessarily a bad thing. The blank page holds wonders as well as terrors, as it were.

Sunday, October 25, 2015

10/23/15: Back in the Saddle

No, not the really-bad-photography saddle. Nor the really-boring-blog one, either.

Rather, today's yoga was a whole-hog return to my core, nomadic values -- new town, new Walmart, new parking lot, new energies. Yeah, still North Carolina, but in the Piedmont now, with its sandy, lowland Piedmont-y groove. And, yes, like yesterday's gym, this Walmart was a Walmart, and my stay was no more adventurous than a leap over a particularly large mud puddle -- but, by golly, it sure beat the tried-and-true.

As I left, my visit felt far more rewarding that it should have

10/22/15: Another Gym

Okay, so I yoga'd in a gym, still; and, still, in the mountains of western NC. This one, at least, was on the road, and had not been previously graced with my presence in this manner.

Beyond that, not much to say. The gym was a gym, with an appropriately wooden-floored stretching-room (which I actually used for stretching; it felt like resting in a rest room, sort of). There was a complimentary mat, always a nice thing. Likewise, a complimentary private bath/shower-room in lieu of a public locker room, also always nice to have. I was happy, yoga'ing here.


10/15-21/15: Back to the Mountains

Recall "The Yard" and "The Gym," those two haunts of mine up in the mountains of western North Carolina, seen so frequently in this blog as of late. Well, this last week, they comprised the scenes of my yoga sessions.

It's why you're getting a picture of the rolling Appalachians and their peaking leaves, rather than a rehashing of the same old scenes I've plastered this blog with already.

Again, the yogi's whereabouts aren't too speculative, lately. And, again, I have excuses ... but, really, it just comes down to a desire for the routine and the easy. My present life-circumstances just haven't been too conducive to adventure or bold experimentation; and, personally, such a downturn in general energies tends to attract me to the ordinary and predictable.

Then again, everything goes in cycles. Who knows what the future might hold?

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

10/8-14/15: Relapse

I've relapsed into my private, indoor-yoga addiction. Hard.

Sure, on one or two days this week, I had a good excuse for staying in -- weather, time constraints, feeling unwell, etcetera. The rest? I just craved privacy and comfort, and gave in to that craving. Simple as that. These days, I can see the draw of the hermit's life; without obligation or appointment or need for extravagance, it's so easy to just slip into the moment and bliss out, sheltered from the world's great many noises. Add to that that I've just been more reclusive in general lately, as well as my relative settling-down for almost two weeks here at the beach, and, well ... the wandering yogi hasn't been wandering too much.

Where is the yogi? Easy: right yonder in that there living room.

Thursday, October 8, 2015

10/7/15: Now That's More Like It

South Carolina's floodwaters are receding. The clouds have parted. The sun has emerged, and I with it.

Yoga was on the beach this morning, and, oh my, did it again feel like the beach (like a good, proper beach, with no attacks from mysteriously carnivorous flies). Besides being my‏ first "real" session in days, it was my first sun exposure in as long. Sun is like sex, for me: I can take vitamin D pills, and go to a tanning bed, and use a lightbox, and any other masturbatory substitute, but there's just nothing like the real thing (baby).

However, today's session was characterized, above all, by gratitude: for the rain as much as the sun, for the consummate whole of the experience -- the expansion and the contraction of it, the inhale/retreat and the exhale/advance, the going and the coming. Etcetera. Without darkness, there could be no light (or, at least, true appreciation of it).

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

10/5/15: Ceiling Yoga

Okay, so this post's title is a bit misleading (or, actually, it's an outright lie). I can't do yoga on the ceiling (yet ...).

The picture is, rather, just what I see when doing yoga in the living room of that beach-front property I keep circling back to. For want of posting yet another boring snapshot of the living-room tableau, as it were. (And yes, it would seem the wandering yogi isn't wandering so much, as of late. I did, at least, have a really good excuse for staying inside, today: I'm in the middle of the SC coast, and the one road leading to my current residence is flooded out.)

Anyway, it was a good session, despite the familiar setting. And, good yoga is good yoga, I say.

(And, as for yesterday? Another "no time, had to skip it.")

Monday, October 5, 2015

10/2-3/15: Another Gym

Well, maybe "another" is too kind: it was the same one I've visited several times lately, that cloistered little purple-carpeted stretching area, back in my hometown (because I've looped back "home" again, presently).

There's nothing left to say about yoga-ing in this gym, other than that, unlike the others in my string of indoor sessions, this one was truly a result of weather (don't be fooled by the recycled picture: it was violently rainy, the sun nowhere to be seen). I was every bit willing to outdoor-park it up, today, if not for the curious, miniature monsoon that is gripping the East Coast at the moment.

(Recycled-picture excuse: the gym hasn't changed a lick, other than its dearth of sunshine. That, and I forgot my phone in Kalki ...)

9/29-10/1/15: I Do Love AirBnB

Yes, I am a fan of the quasi-nomad thing, living in Kalki the RV and bumming about the place. But, car travel appeals to me about equally, which goes double when AirBnB is thrown into the equation.

An adorable, antique cottage in Winston-Salem, NC, this time. Though the place lay nestled in the heart of the city, you'd never know it, from the property's rural serenity. I had planned on yoga'ing about the town, to break my indoors streak if nothing else, but one look at the wood-floored living room and its warm, shaggy rug, and I knew I'd be a recluse for the new few sessions. And I was, and they were wonderful, even progressive. A fine place to inch forward in my yoga, I say.

9/28/15: Not an Addict

I did another of those gloomy, hermit-like indoor-living-room sessions today. But it was only because of outdoor allergies, and rain. I'm not addicted to the comfort zone afforded by private, personal space. Really.

Okay, so it was rainy and pollen-y out. But I would've yoga'd indoors anyway today, I think. Another of "those kind" of days (though, as this blog might demonstrate, I'm not addicted to the comfort-zone teat, either).

Saturday, September 26, 2015

9/26/15: Now, That's More Like It

After two days of hermit-ing it up in the living room, keeping my yoga from the world, I was determined to get outside. And, despite some residual hermit-ness and my lack of time and the unspectacular weather, I got outside, gosh darn it to heck.

True, my chosen spot (in the parking lot of the roadside business I had an appointment at) wasn't much more interesting than the cavern-like living room of where I'm staying, nor was my session a heartfelt prayer-of-flesh like of a couple days ago (or, even a complete session, thanks to my looming appointment). But it was most certainly not indoors. I win.

Friday, September 25, 2015

9/24-25/15: The Living-Room Carpet Again

The 24th was another indoor session, on the humdrum living-room floor, and not even a full session, due to time constraints (though I did manage to get in a full, progressive one on the 25th, as a makeup of sorts). Unworthy of so much as a new picture, these.

Yet, it was yoga, and felt quite satisfying on both days, for all its ultra-mundanity (I invented a new word, at least). So be it.

Thursday, September 24, 2015

9/23/15: Parking-Lot Park Yoga

Another parking lot, but of a different kind than usual.

Normally when I yoga in some conspicuously public place, it's out of necessity, from living in Kalki the RV (the interior of which is not yoga-friendly). Today, however, my exhibition was of a different bent, one much harder to explain. The best I can describe it is, there was a certain energy to this particular parking lot, and it was lacking in a certain element, that which was supplied by my yoga'ing there.

Or, in a word, my yoga'ing there was a kind of prayer. Beyond saying that, I won't try and put it into words.

Anyway, it proved a great session, and I was at last able to check this parking-lot park from my list of places calling out for someone to yoga there.

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

9/22/15: Guerrilla Yoga (aka, The War of the Flies (aka, Car-Seat Yoga))

So, I was attacked by flies.

The beach, hearing I was back in town, had cried out for reacquaintment, and I obliged. Heading there, I thought it would be a routine visit -- which is to say, splendid. Just routine. I was wrong on both counts.

Flies. A swarm of vicious, unrelenting, biting flies. They assaulted me within minutes of my first asana, and just didn't quit. I tried ignoring them; waving them away; swatting at them, peacefully but violently, in the name of yoga and its greater good -- without success. Unflagging, the flies continually disrupted me, their burning, wasp-like bites strong enough to sabotage all breathing and stretching and concentration. I'd never had this problem before -- but how? A seasonal thing, maybe? A harbinger of Fall at the beach? Not mosquitoes, these flies, which looked every bit like everyday, harmless houseflies, but most definitely were not. Mosquitoes, for me, are tolerable, being mere nuisances in both presence and bite. These mystery-flies were simply murderous, their constant bites leaving big, red, throbbing, bee-sting-like welts. I couldn't even smile my way through the onslaught, which is shockingly rare for me.

Hence, "The War of the Flies."

I tried moving, eventually. A frenzied, neurotic little dance across the beachfront, it probably appeared to any onlookers, unable to see my tiny nemeses. This worked for a couple asanas, but then the flies stuck with me, perhaps getting wise.

Hence, "Guerrilla Yoga."

Finally, I ended up at the last resort: my car seat, in the sanctity of my hermetically sealed, fly-free cab. Thankfully, I'd already completed most of the totally car-seat-incompatible asanas while out on the battlefront beach, so I was able to do the rest while perched in my hot car -- awkward, improper, bastard versions of the stretches, but yoga, no less. And, excepting my frog squats and back bends (which required me to step out and make use of the parking lot temporarily -- more guerrilla yoga), I did do the rest, completing my session for the most part.

Me: 1. Flies: 0. I win.

Monday, September 21, 2015

9/21/15: Indoors and Alone

Another indoors, hermit-mode session today, even though I was back at the beach and the weather was great. It was just that kind of day.

And, again, just so there's no doubt of the authenticity of this super-interesting feat, see here my lotus'd legs. Proof positive, folks.

And what of yesterday, 9/20, of which its post is conspicuously absent? Just as it implies: no yoga! That's right, I actually had to skip my yoga entirely, for the first time since I started this blog, due to being without the time for so much as a cheap little 20-minute maintenance session. But that's okay; I did not die, or incur anything more than some urgency to get in a decent session this morning.

9/19/15: More Gym, Less Filling

Being on the road in Kalki, and having stayed over in a truck stop that proved exceptionally foul-smelling when I went outside the next morning, I opted for another gym session, now in my gym's Asheville, NC, branch. It proved nice.

This facility, unlike some others of the franchise, had an accommodatingly large exercise studio, which was fully vacant at the time of my arrival, rendering it a wonderful yoga-spot. Peace. Quiet. Solitude. Cool.

My session was further enhanced by opposing mirrors, lending an infinity effect that I tried to capture in the picture. A bit of a head-trip, doing yoga in this place.

Saturday, September 19, 2015

9/16-18/15: Yoga Camp

No, that's not the name of a yoga-oriented camp. Rather, these last three days I did yoga at a campsite.

Not that it felt much like camping, after my living in Kalki on and off for so long. It was, simply, just another "park"-site for me, albeit in a nice, big, level space. Being peaceful and quiet and quasi-private were nice bonuses, too, further justifying the cost. There was a fire pit, had I been inclined to a camp fire, and the luxury of full sewer and power hookups, which I indulged in since they were there. For an RV bum, it was the Ritz (unlike the barebones wildnerness of a Wal-Mart parking lot).

There, in the grassy, tree-nestled lot I was assigned, I yoga'd for three successive days, and it was good. Amen.

9/14-15/15: Back to the Gym ... Again ... And Again ...

I said yesterday that everything is cyclical. Well, today I cycled back to the un-amazing spot at the gym.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not ungrateful, and the spot isn't at all lacking (plus, no allergens). I'd just rather be outside, or somewhere without the hum of overhead lighting. At least the sun was with me these two days, albeit through glass.

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

9/13/15: The Yard Again

Everything is cyclical, it's been said. I've found this to be true, and it includes my yoga spots.

Case in point: my family's front yard. I always come back to it, eventually, as I did today. As it were, the yard was unchanged since my last visit, besides being freshly cut (and a bit chillier; September in the mountains can get nippy).

9/12/15: Gym Yoga

Yep, I've been here before, too.

Clouds + periodic rain + allergens = me doing yoga in the little cordoned-off "stretching" corner of an Anytime Fitness. Being that I'm back in Kalki the RV (the small interior of which is not conducive to yoga), it was either this, or get a tarp. I opted for the gym. Not the ideal yoga environment, for sure, but far from an unpleasant one.

Regardless, this yoga-mission was successfull, and I chose to enjoy it.

Saturday, September 12, 2015

9/11/15: Picnic Yoga

Another hotel, another grassy yard.

Migrating back through western NC, I laid over in a Holiday Inn, where I'd treated myself to a semi-luxurious suite for the night. An enjoyable stay, surely, and it came with a great breakfast bar the next morning -- plus this endearing little picnic area, perfect to yoga in. God chimed in, too, adding some nourishing sun to the mix (along with the requisite time for a full, relaxing session, my first in a few days).

Thanks, for all this, World.

Friday, September 11, 2015

9/10/15: Zen Garden

Okay, so it wasn't a proper Zen garden. But it felt that way.

I love AirBnB, and this time, once I was back on the road (in my car rather than Kalki, again), it hooked me up with a great apartment in downtown Winston-Salem, NC. As it were, the property included this wonderful, ornamented little urban garden, and it proved a perfect site for my yoga. Halfway through, I had to laugh: I was in lotus pose, directly beside the pictured statue (of an Indian-style Buddha in lotus pose). I'd chosen the spot because it was level, ignoring my partner there; a bit of synchronicity, this.

I probably looked like a garden gnome.

Thursday, September 10, 2015

9/9/15: The Living Room Carpet Strikes Again

Back to the living-roomn carpet of the beach-side vacation property, again too withdrawn to even go out on the deck for the marsh.

Today, at least, I had the excuse of being the victim of time constraints (which rushed the session, making it extra-underwhelming; it seemed only appropriate to recycle a picture for it). Though, I must admit: it's darn comfortable yoga'ing in my underwear. Seems to let the energy flow freer.

Tuesday, September 8, 2015

9/8/15: Back On the Beach ... Kind Of

I found myself yoga'ing on the beach again, after my little run of withdrawn sessions. But it didn't feel like the beach.

It was a different beach, is why. Not just a different stretch of beach, mind you, but one of a totally different character. An out-of-the-way spot, some miles from the touristy beachfront I'd been frequenting (that lying amid the pictured high-rises, as it were), this beach was at a safe remove from the city center, and peacefully, serenely quiet -- almost perfectly quiet, actually, with the only other people being as reposed and introverted as myself. This was the locals' beach, and it felt every bit like it.

Stretching, breathing, I experienced an abounding love for this place, with its gently lapping waves and total lack of unpleasantness.

A good day. Gratitude for simple life. I smiled much.

Monday, September 7, 2015

9/6-7/15: Still Feeling Hermit-y

These last two days, I again stayed in for my yoga. Now, at least, it was in a new, somewhat more interesting spot: the DC hotel I ended up staying at (after my spur-of-the-moment flight there on the 5th).

For all the spontaneity of my arrival in DC, there's not much to say about my yoga there. The hotel room was adequately sized. I had enough room to twist and stretch, after moving a chair. The room did not smell, or otherwise offend the senses. There were no dead bodies under the bed. Unfortunately, with the hotel being in the smack-dab middle of downtown DC, it offered no inviting grass lawn, or other yoga-friendly outdoor amenities (the window my yoga was done under, pictured here, opened onto a courtyard filled with garbage containers and a massive, steaming industrial machine with no obvious function).

And again, just for consistency, here's a snapshot of the precise carpet on which I yoga'd, because you really, really need to see it (and my feet):

9/5/15: Living-Room Yogi

What's that there, you say? A swatch of living-room floor, that which I yoga'd on today. (The feet prove it, since you're probably doubting this impossibly awesome yoga-spot.)

Why'd I stay in today, when the beautiful and warm (albeit frequently-visited) beach lay just nearby? Because I honestly just wanted to stay in, to the point that I didn't even feel like donning pants so that I may at least yoga on the marsh-side back deck. Admit it: you've had days like this (and have probably made concessions to it like this, too).

(And here's some irony: this same morning, literally minutes after completing my hermit-like shut-in yoga session, I decided, on a total whim, to book a flight to DC, departing this afternoon. It was as if something inside me wanted to make up for my super-solitude yoga, to balance out my having deprived the outside world of my presence for an hour. Talk about impulsive ...)

Thursday, September 3, 2015

9/3-4/15: Son of the Beach

Yeah, this post's title is shamelessly corny. I couldn't help myself.

On the morning of the 3rd, the beach beckoned despite my just having been, luring me out with some hazy sunshine that allowed generous sun exposure while throttling back the heat. But, can you really get too much early-morning beach?

I enjoyed this beach-yoga especially. Maybe because of the total lack of radios, vehicles, or other noise pollution; maybe because the session was just that nourishing. I don't really question these things too deeply.

Booming surf. Peaceful people. Clean air. I was happy.

Same goes for the 4th, when I returned, my beach-yen not yet fulfilled. Then, I was met with pristine, postcard-worthy weather, though this came at the cost of more people, heat, and noise. A devil's bargain, certainly, but it failed at sullying my enjoyment.

 * * *

And here's a little non-yoga anecdote, encountered on my way home from the beach on the 3rd:

Show this to your favorite senior and say, "Hey, if you're sellin', they're buyin'."

9/2/15: Roadside Attraction

Last month, I discovered a friend's garden as a lovely yoga-spot. Today, I intended to repeat that experience; but it didn't quite turn out that way.

When I arrived, ready to raid the garden, I was informed that it had been sprayed for mosquitoes in the night, leaving it reeking with fumes (to the owner's chagrin and indignation). So I was directed just across the street, to where no such spraying was performed. It, too, was a fine spot, for all its commonality. And, sure enough, no fumes. I pitched my mat.

My session was satisfyingly good, if without much sun. And, I discovered an amusing anecdote: positioned between the two trees, I was invisible to motorists until they would pass that certain spot. I could imagine their reaction, being surprised by a half-naked man doing yoga beside a foliage-covered fence (for a golf resort, as it were). Probably their first such encounter along this quiet neighborhood road, I'd bet.

To anyone I startled, I apologize. I was just dodging some pesticides.

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

9/1/15: More Beach Yoga

As noted a couple posts down, it's the beach for me this week. So of course some beach-yoga would happen.

And what yoga it was. How the weather can change: the endless-feeling rains of the last couple days were, by this morning, giving way to a gentle fog, which in turn gave way to the brilliant, crystal-clear day pictured here. And, in the midst of this unexpected metamorphosis, there I was, already heading to the beach anyway. Have a beautiful day for your yoga, why don't you, the world seemed to say to me.

I stretched. I breathed. I caught up on my vitamin D levels. Life was good.

Monday, August 31, 2015

8/31/15: Rainy Day Refuge

Yes, the poor-quality picture was intentional.

Steady, unfriendly rainfall forced me inside, and, not feeling too outside-yoga to begin with, I decided
to do it right there in that dark, grotto-like living room. Hence the dingy picture; it was just that kind of day.

There, in the early-morning non-light, I did my thing. To my surprise, I liked this non-glamorous setting. Still and almost totally silent, it was very womb-like, as to be quite compatible with my unsociable mood. I yoga'd in my underwear, to an audience of no one. Rain dripped. Time crept silently past. Were there a death-bed fly to buzz, I could've heard it.

If Poe had done yoga, this would be his kind of session.

Sunday, August 30, 2015

8/30: Yep, the Marsh is Still There

I'm back at the beach, so of course I had to yoga on the back deck, alongside the marsh.

I just had to check and be sure it was still there, honest.

And ... it is.

Saturday, August 29, 2015

8/29: Another Econolodge

I repeat: I swear I'm not seeking out Econolodges (or secretly being sponsored by them).

Once more, I was on the road (back to the car for the time being, so no Kalki to retire in) and, despite my best-laid plans, I tired unexpectedly and, thus, needed an impromptu place to stay. Next exit, I'm stopping, I decided -- and, as it so happened, the next exit presented only a single hotel, another Econolodge. It would make my third EL in a row, this time in a sleepy little South Carolina town that I'd never heard of prior to stopping off there in need of a roof over my head.

In the end, my entire stay would prove a repeat of its predecessors: rather pleasant, both my room and my yoga. When hunting out my yoga-spot, I saw it at once: at the lot's far corner, between two picturesque trees of a species I couldn't identify (ever notice how many folks seem to be plant-life experts? I'm not one of them). Free from the allergies that had plagued me up north, I did my yoga in the company of a burgeoning sun, a tranquil meadow, and the pair of unidentified trees. With my eyes closed, I'd never have thought myself in a small strip of grass in between a highway-side hotel and a busy Waffle House.

Afterward, I rolled up my mat with a gentle, contented smile, feeling ready to finish my interrupted drive. How strange it is, the places that nourish us.

8/28: To the Gym

Today marked my first time doing yoga in a gym.

Make no mistake: I'm no stranger to gyms. I've held a regular presence in some gym or another literally since I was a young child (my father, a lifetime fitness buff, instilled a gym-ethic in me from the get-go). Just, for whatever reason, I've never done my yoga in a gym, despite it being the location of choice for many yogis. Me, I like my yoga outdoors, with sun and nature and wide-open spaces. Why'd I resort to the gym today? Simple: fall allergies. It's the one thing that can see my yoga relocated indoors (that, or a hard rain).

That said, I found yoga in a gym to be satisfying, if mundane. I performed it in the facility's designated stretching/kettle bell/ball-workout area (another first for me, setting foot in this space). I was quasi-delighted to find a complimentary mat, already set out, which proved somewhat more comfortable than my own. As a cute footnote, the sun shone through the nearby window, gracing me with sumptuous light (if not the vitamin D-producing goodness filtered by the glass).

Once done, I felt oddly matured, as if I'd lost some sort of virginity.

Friday, August 28, 2015

8/27: Back to the Office Park

Remember that unexpectedly nice office park I stayed at sometime ago? Well, I went back.

After the success of my last stayover, and with my having another doctor's appointment there, I decided to try my luck again. And, well, my luck held out, because this stay was as quiet, shady, cool, and uneventful as the last, with an equally satisfying yoga session to boot. Such a blessing, this. Really, I could've paid top dollar for a hotel room and not gotten half the quiet and peace at this little white-collar enclave.

So, in the unlikely event that the park's owners are reading this: thanks, guys! I really love the place (and I made sure to leave it like I found it; I would've picked up litter, had there been litter to pick up).

Thursday, August 27, 2015

8/26: Back to Wal-Mart

A triumphant return to "roughing it"-style yoga, in a Wal-Mart parking lot.

This time, I was in the back of the property, by the store's loading docks, where I'd slept to the incessant "beep-beep-beep" of the cargo loader's zipping about, then backing up, then repeating. Not much else to say about this one. Once again, my yoga was successful, and no one killed me (or tried, that I know of at least). I patronized the store a couple times, and it was certainly a Wal-Mart. Unlike that one store, no souped-up cars raced in the parking lot (they must've been at Target down the street).

Thanks, Wal-Mart! You are my friend, no matter what folks say about you (or how much you sell to us from China).

8/25: The Yard

Yep, more yoga in the family yard, for want of a more invigorating place. You'd think I live there, still.

Last yard-yoga for a while, I promise. Kalki and I are hitting the road this afternoon.

8/24: Another Park

Today, I set out for another local park, which turned out to be a pleasant surprise.

A broad, meandering greensward, this park lay on the outskirts of my hometown -- right under my nose for my whole life, yet I'd never visited. A pity: it was great, or this morning it was, anyway. I yoga'd there just after dawn, as the sun crested the mountains and the clouds, greeting my bare torso with friendly warmth. Some landscapers appeared during the tail-end of my session, cranking obnoxious riding mowers, but this failed at sullying my enjoyment of the grounds. For me, the park and my yoga were nourishing to the point of relegating any noise to insignificance, like hearing a pin drop during a hurricane.

I should return to this park, I think.

Monday, August 24, 2015

8/23: A Quickie in the Yard

No, it isn't the name of some lewd comedy movie.

Today, it was another session in my family's yard, rather unimaginative of me. I was forced there due to time constraints, which also made it rushed and unfulfilling. On the bright side, perhaps this subpar session will make tomorrow's that much more enjoyable.

Thus, a rather rushed and unfulfilling post.

Saturday, August 22, 2015

8/21-22: Criminal Yoga

The scene of this morning's yoga constitued a crime.

I trespassed -- not murder, exactly, but a crime, nonetheless. The scandalous place in question was another mountaintop property, down the road from my family's, along an ascending ridgeline offering million-dollar views of the town below. It was these views I performed my yoga before, to the music of crickets and stray breeze (and not a single passing car). My only company on the lot was the multiple "NO TRESPASSING" signs planted about.

As it were, this lot has a bit of lore in the town, having originally hosted an ultra-modernistic, conspicuously all-black house which had been owned by, then confiscated from, a drug dealer (or so I've heard, secondhand). After the maybe-dealer owner's arrest, the bizarrely beautiful home sat empty for years, during which it attracted regular visitors in the form of college students from town (as well as an abstract nickname that I can't just now remember). Eventually the property was auctioned off by the county, bought by a bank, and then cleared of the drug dealer's decayed black house, leaving the lot vacant but for a gravel-filled foundation, still painted black in places. Hence the space for my criminal yoga, and the overbearing announcement of NO TRESPASSING.

Normally, I would've refrained from my whim to do yoga on this lot, out of simple respect for its owners (even if their no-trespassing ordinance has no practical or real-world foundation, instituted just to keep drunk college kids from congregating there). Today, however, I made an exception, for reasons too complicated to explain. For what it's worth, I cleaned up some litter afterward, leaving the forelorn old lot better than I'd found it (though I do this everywhere I yoga; cleaning up litter won't change the fact that I violated a law, after all).

That session was so nice, I had to go there again, the next morning. Then, I was joined by a curious beagle, hot on some scent (and, thankfully, no angry property owner's).

Friday, August 21, 2015

8/20: Back to the Family's

After a week or so of migratory travels by car, I returned to my family's mountaintop homestead and, thus, Kalki the RV.

So, today's yoga was a reprise of my usual routine at this venerable old haunt: an early-morning session in the property's pleasant front yard. It was interesting, for all my past sessions here; whenever I'm away and then return, the yard is refreshed in substance, always offering something new, like a favorite book. In my experience, the same could be said for everything, more or less: abstinence not only makes the heart grow fonder, but washes away whatever perceptual and emotional barnacles had become attached by contemptuous levels of familiarity, as to restructure people and places anew. It's one of the great secondary benefits of travel (if not the primary).

In the end, I quite enjoyed my homecoming yoga session.

Thursday, August 20, 2015

8/19: Bed and Breakfast and Yoga

Today's yoga was in the backyard of a mid-size, neighborhood home.

It wasn't just any backyard, however, but that of Smalltown America, on an archetypal Main Street (which was, coincidentally, right on the town's Main Street). Lying on a sleepy, tree-lined two-lane non-highway, the bed-and-breakfast of my overnight was every bit something from another time. The doorkey I was issued was of the classical skeleton variety, requiring a full, three-sixty turn. The home had a proper, walk-in cellar. A cinderblock outbuilding marked the property's perimeter, the kind now commonly plastered with old tin signs from Coca-Cola and Pepsi and gas companies that have long since rebranded. The place was, like the town it lay in, anachronistically quaint, and in all the right ways. I liked it, and, also, I liked its backyard, where I yoga'd on a grassy little knoll overlooking an intersection where a stoplight blinked and the area's workers passed in commute.

This locale didn't much help my serenity addiction. I need to get back in Kalki and do some Wal-Marting ...

8/18: The Marsh Again

Just had to make sure it was still there. Honest.

This time, however, it wasn't so tranquil: a storm was blowing in, providing some contrast to the stillness of my yoga. Wind whipped around me. Stray raindrops nipped at my concentration. Thunder boomed in the distance. "You've had too much serenity," the world seemed to be saying.

Stormy marsh-side yoga. Kinda fun.