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.