Saturday, December 19, 2015
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
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.