as it happens I had intended over this summer to write about my wild and crazy experience being back in my home state. Seeing all the neurosies I USED to have. And pointing and laughing at all the others with their rabbit-sized families, jello desserts and "we are the center of the universe and isn't it dramatic" attitudes.
But as it turns out I actually prefer the wily children, special holidays with special foods (every single month) and the Fremont mentality. So here we are.
Bring on the Black Cherry jello and fruit with cream cheese and nuts!
So this post isn't about PTSD. Well it is, kind of.
Here is the yoga wisdom of the day
We do yoga poses that put us in strain or imbalance specifically to train the mind to be able to calm itself when we arrive at a real life situation that causes the same physical response.
i.e. next time you panic, remember how when you had your feet over your head and somehow your breathing and heartbeat came back down to normal.
Why does Listerine feel like it is giving my mouth a chemical peel?
My method for doing things is diving in to see if my whole self likes it (really what can you tell from a tiny toe in the pool?). I also like to stick to my commitments which means sometimes I stay in long past raisin-skin stage.
I hate returning things.
I really hate patchouli.
I should probably stop drinking whole milk every day since it is actually designed to fatten up baby cows.
I have always dreamed of being one of those girls with a flat stomach. When bare midriff's came around, I tried to stand up straight and suck in. Luckily I didn't delve head first into belly button baring blouses because I am not one of those girls. My belly is not flat.
My dad used to call me Beluga Belly when I was wee tyke. I had great belly-pushing-out abilities and I was an adorable super white color.
As I got older, I got into sports and exercising. And being super short, I naturally tried to stand up straighter, and it might have stretched my round little belly a little bit. But not enough for flat stomach status. So a good long 20-something years of loathing the soft middle.
So then a week ago I went to a yoga retreat. (I am a middle class white girl - I like yoga, photography, traveling and cooking, ethnic food and organic farmer's markets. I'm WHITE). So the teacher was telling us to inhale into our bellys. And I thought, why don't I. Not just a little bit, but all of it. And I did.
And I kicked everyone's big breathing asses. And it didn't feel like this section of my body that I like to reprimand and occasionally give stern advice to. It became part of my ability. I can super deep breathe.
And that is cool.