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I took my original third day off. Tuesday was supposed to be the third consecutive day but I spent some time checking in with my body and it was clear I needed to give it some extra time to recover. I am SO glad I did because last night I attended my third session in four days and I kicked ASS!!!!!
I’m so excited to have pushed past some of the more challenging elements of Bikram practice. I’m happy to report that I only sat out of ONE POSE!
Sending myself several positive affirmations after having completed my second consecutive day of Bikram practice. As I mentioned in yesterday’s post the chances of me sticking to an evening workout plan are pretty low but I did it! And I’m going to do it again this evening (thanks to Daylight Savings the thought of a 6am class is still too much to bear!).
Feeling pretty good this morning! Despite the gosh darn loss of an hour due to Daylight Savings my body is not necessarily tired. I do need to do some stretching however because my lower extremities are TIGHT and if I don’t my whole back will be thrown out of alignment so I’m going to take some time this morning to do that. What I found most interesting is that this morning I felt compelled to get up and run or jump rope or something (weird huh?). I opted to pass on the 6am class and am going to head there at either 6:30pm or 8:15pm which is going to really test my dedication because I tend to not work out at night :/
ran across these this evening. wrote them like a year or so ago. i need to perform them at some point. *puts on list of shit to do*
Wowsers. Ok, full disclosure I waited until the very last class offered today to go. I was kind of nervous about how exhausted I might be afterwards and therefore wanted to get a lot done before I came home and no doubt collapsed. The 9 am class passed, then the 11:30….then the 2pm…..finally at 3:45 I got my life together to bike the short distance down to Yoga College of India in the Grand/Lake area of Oakland (really really close to my home by Lake Merritt). The class started at 4:30 and I got there a little after 4. Signed in, took off my oversized sweats and hoodie, grabbed a mat and towel and went into the room.
Hot. Yoga. I’ve done it before a couple of times. Found the experience to be challenging, at times quite unbearable but exceedingly rewarding. Kind of like running.
Yoga is about clearing away whatever is in us that prevents our living in the most full and whole way. With yoga, we become aware of how and where we are restricted — in body, mind, and heart — and how gradually to open and release these blockages. As these blockages are cleared, our energy is freed. We start to feel more harmonious, more at one with ourselves. Our lives begin to flow — or we begin to flow more in our lives. — CYBELE TOMLINSON, Simple Yoga
I WANT to be a runner, I really do (wait for the logic). I WANT to love the feeling of my feet hitting the pavement and sending shock waves up through the muscles of my legs, compressing the cushion in my knees and placing pressure on the weakened muscles of my low back (for more on my back injury click here) simultaneously causing some sort of weird running mucous to well up in the back of my throat that I then feel compelled to spit out somewhere like the sexy beast that I am. Sounds AWESOME.
I had completely forgotten those seemingly endless nights we spent cultivating something deeper than the oceans and early mornings we wished to share with one another. When I talked about you today I had a stream of memories not yet made, and never to come to pass, rush across my consciousness. In the most obscure corners of my heart I still do wish that all those words spoken and promises made came to fruition fore my world would be completely different now, no doubt filled with the sounds of sprouted seeds and silver bells. And though the reality I exist in is meaningful and right. Loving you would be as sweet as honey on my lips and your mollasses wrapped around my waist. What a waste.
Sasha and Malia looking fashionable and tall with their father on Thanksgiving day.
(via allegedlyofcourse)
Hi, We’re the ones you left behind, lied to, cheated on, smacked around, called names, devalued, violated, confused or walked all over. We wanted to love you.
You were our fathers, boyfriends, husbands, lovers, crushes, aquaintences or any other myriad relation to us that gave you some kind of power over our emotions. We’re the women you didn’t call back after you slept with us, or who you didn’t make time in your busy schedule for, or who you thought it appropriate to grope or yell innuendos at as we walked past you at arm’s length. We are the mothers of your children who only wish you would get your shit together once and for all and be a father to these babies. We wanted to love you.
We are your wives whose worlds you shattered when you brought disease into the walls of this home we built together because you decided not to protect yourself. Or us. We are the sisters you teased for being too fat…or too skinny. We are the college freshmen who ultimately become another notch on your bedpost in a long stream of meaningless interludes. We wanted to love you.
But you had no idea how to love yourselves let alone another. You don’t even know how to be loved. So scratched and bruised from the fisticuffs with patriarchy that we all battle with our souls because we KNOW something isn’t right with the way things are, even you, know this. You know that we shouldn’t cry because “here we go again another one just wanted to sleep with me and vanish.” You know we deserve more than that. We catch a glimpse of that epiphany when you’re on top of us for a moment we know you want to give us the world, blanket us in you and never let a shadow pass across our faces but instead you fill us up with half the matter that is meant to create babies but God forbid these seeds sprout fore you’re not ready for that kind of responsibility, you’re still. doing. you.
And you leave us there to clean ourselves up. And dust ourselves off. Or you stay and give us forehead kisses which we feel is next to godliness but instead you were just too tired to drive home or the. bed. or. our. bosom. was. too. comforable.
We live our lives on both ends of the spectrum in hopes that you’ll be pleased pursuing purity or de jour prostitution offer our minds or our bodies and you disgard both in the end. We wanted to love you.
But you were too fucked up to take us as we were so we starved ourselves, injected poison into our bodies, laid under the harsh lamps of tanning beds as our cells mutated into something more sinister. We wanted to love you.
Before we even loved ourselves and even after we found our deep an abiding love for us, we still couldn’t find a way to love you. You’ve built walls with poison tipped spikes around your heart. We wanted to love you.
But you didn’t listen when we said “no” or maybe you didn’t hear us, we should really learn to speak up. That dress we wore was asking for it and we foolishly place the blame, and shame of our violation on ourselves as opposed to it’s rightful place atop your damaged crown. We wanted to love you.
Like the love you see in the movies but we know that doesn’t exist in real life, our fathers didn’t even love our mothers or they beat them or ignored them and that is supposed to be the most bonding love at all…the kind that creates a life. We wanted to love you.
But we’re tired. We repeat mantras and affirmations that keep us on the path of love redemption but never get us any closer to what we think love looks like or feels like. We’re patient, we’re kind, we’re open, we’re subdued. We lower our expectations SO far that almost anything goes. Oh we wanted to love you.
You wouldn’t know love, real-soul-love, if it was right in front of you. It is right in front of you. We wanted to love you.
But perhaps the man you are today is not worthy of the warmth that our love provides. Maybe you have some more growing up to do. But we beg that you stop leaving trails of broken hearts in your wake like so many bread crumbs leading back to the first time your heart was broken. We wanted to love you.
But the person who hurt you, didn’t. Stop making us pay with blood for her breaking your heart.
I’m affirming this to myself constantly. I’m SO TIRED of other’s damage and issues and fucked-up-ness interfering with my quest for romantic love. It’s so easy to fall into the line of thinking that places the blame on you for how someone mistreats you. Did I put out too soon? Did I say something wrong? Am I too fat? Too skinny? Too, whatever?
Fact is, majority of the time that people do something seemingly illogical to you, out of the blue, it has a lot less to do with you and a lot more to do with them and their issues.
I’m a catch. I’m the kind of girl dudes always say that they want, but I can’t seem to keep one around long enough to actually build something meaningful, either I X them out or they X THEMSELVES out by doing something assholish. And then you end up disappointed, confused and frustrated.
I’m really fucking frustrated.
