Confession: It has been 11 days since my last asana practice. They called the tiny room a fitness center. In a motel in Flagstaff, where we were snowed in for a day, I asked if there was one. “Yes, of course we have a fitness center!” the gal at the motel answered my query a bit too cheerily, and the room she directed me to hardly fit the picture I had of a space to do a yoga practice. An old treadmill, a recumbent bike with a broken pedal, and a dusty stair-stepper all faced a dead tv fastened up into the far corner of the room. There was little space between them, and less space around them. Fitness in a closet. I managed to maneuver my way into a triangle of space between the bike and the tv corner – not quite enough room for salutations, but I did manage a few standing poses, followed by seated twists, forward bends, hip openers, and modified pigeons. A few deep breaths led me into a much needed seated meditation. The room was very obviously not used much, so the upside was a quiet space, all to myself.
Back on the road, yoga practice consisted of five-minute fixes at rest stops (post to come later on that) and small moments of meditation wherever they could be found. Confession: Sometimes the five-minute fixes were only 30 seconds, and meditations were not always mindful.
Our cross-country drive ended in Olympia, Washington last Friday, and I flew from there to Reno on Monday. Here, I spend some time with my mother (isn’t there such a thing as a mom-yoga practice?) and happily reconnect with my husband. The travel is not quite over: after a bit of rest and organization, hubby and I will drive ourselves, our stuff, and our critters (minus one well-loved cat that we said goodbye to this week) back out to Washington.
So what about yoga? Today, I am thinking of the lovely yoginis in La Pine gathered for their Saturday morning yoga class, and I am lifted up in the memory and simplicity of their love and laughter: To you, lovely ladies, I bow in Namaste, and offer up a sun salutation in your honor.
I begin again. As we all do, every day. As travel winds down, I will again find my daily practice, and offer daily posts. Confession: I don’t think there really is such thing as a delinquent yogini. Life sometimes intervenes, and part of yoga is going with the flow, and knowing when to asana and when not to asana; when to push forward and when to settle back; when to hang on and when to let go.
Here’s to the journey, my friends. Namaste.