Heading back to work after the long, lazy summer has been…challenging.
I miss blogging, but haven’t had the energy (or any interesting experiences) to share. I went to yoga on Sunday to combat my malaise.
Yoga has magic properties that make me feel relaxed and healthy. I always leave the class feeling better than I did when I went in.
It was perfect until the woman next to me started grunting and cursing every time she found a pose challenging. Judging by her colourful language, she really struggled with the class.
Let’s just say, I didn’t get the calm, peaceful experience I craved.
Afterward, I went to Starbucks. It was a crisp sunny afternoon, so I sat outside to enjoy my coffee and unwind from the stressful yoga experience. I wanted quiet to regroup.
I hadn’t even started my muffin when an adolescent turned up.
“I remember you from elementary school,” he announced sitting down. “When I saw you, I had to come and say hi.”
I didn’t let on that I couldn’t recall him. (Although I worked at his school, I don’t think I taught him.) We chatted about his bike (he prefers riding it to video games!) and his recent transition to high school.
I didn’t get my solitary latte interlude, but I did get a sweet small town teacher moment. It felt good that a former student felt comfortable enough to stop and talk to me.
Work has been crazy busy this year, but maybe it’s worth it if I’m making positive connections with kids.
Getting back into the school routine has been…exhausting.
I’m taking a number of steps to promote well being.
I went to yoga on Sunday. Since I hadn’t been for a while, some of the poses were difficult. After this challenging class, I almost knocked the instructor over as I left the studio. It was a physical Freudian Slip.
Then I bought an assortment of vegetables to roast for quick weeknight dinners. I’m hoping to give myself a dose of energy and the healthy glow of a vegan.
As well as being delicious, the beets had the added benefit of turning everything they touched a glorious shade of pink.
I’m off work on a medical leave. I’ve been told to do things that are good for me.
Yoga was recommended.
Since I’m an expert at following directions, I signed up for a class.
I haven’t yoga-ed for a few years, so I was a bit nervous until I learned it was a class for “mature” people.
I arrived early, and unrolled my mat to wait for the instructor–in my limited experience, they’re always lithe young women with meaningful tattoos and gorgeous, glowing skin.
There were a few other early birds, and I scoped out the competition–some leathery women and an old man in an ancient track suit with mad scientist hair.
I started to feel confident about keeping up with this group…until I saw track suit guy do some kind of advanced yogic handstand! He did several other, equally athletic poses.
I panicked. If this was what the seniors did to warm up, what would the actual class entail?
I was trying to figure out how I could gather up my things and slip out before the instructor arrived when track suit guy came over to me.
“Welcome to the class,” he said. “I’m Jan, the instructor.”
It was a good class, and Jan’s a strong teacher, but the most important lesson I learned had nothing to do with yoga.
I will not judge a book by its cover.