a happy hour

Ha! I wrote almost this exact post four years ago!

This time I didn't feel the desire to cry, but my first yoga class in years felt damn, damn fine. This class won't be the workout I'd come to love and value with my previous teacher, but it was just as strong a reminder of why I love yoga and the s-t-r-e-e-e-e-e-e-t-c-h.

Add to that a beautiful 1930's designed wooden floored room with big sash windows open to the sounds and smell of the ocean, a somewhat dour but gentle and insightful Afrikaans instructor and a classmate who jingles ever so subtly with every position change, despite not wearing any visible bells, and what's not to love right?

Again I was thrilled to discover my body remembered what to do, and his only critique was that I leaned forward out of pose too often.
'Stop looking to the future while you're here,' he said, 'stay in the moment and forget whatever it is you need to do after class.'

I can dig that.