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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 ...)

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.

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.