After my potential living situation fell apart this week I started thinking big picture.
I don't really know what I'm doing right now. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be doing -- not where I'm supposed to live, what kind of work I'm supposed to be doing or, in most cases, where the best place is to focus my time and energy.
It's disconcerting, and it's gotten old. Moving into this condo was supposed to be the centering force, the base from which all of the other stuff was going to get figured out, honestly. This felt right.
And then it didn't happen and I was uncentered again. Oh woe is me, constantly thwarted, blahblahblah. Then I realized that I didn't have to lift heavy things on Sunday and that kind of made me feel better because I am all about laziness and procrastination. And somewhere amid this maelstrom of emotion, I left work and I just started driving. I called my sister and told her I was driving like Lloyd Dobler, which was in no way as dramatic as it was in the movie because a. I was not heartbroken and b. it wasn't raining so I had no excuse to bust out "the rain on my car is a baptism" line.
I ended up somehow in the parking lot of a yoga studio that I'd been meaning to try, having failed to use a Groupon I bought for them this summer. No matter. $49 to the dharma, or wherever failed yoga studio Groupons go (which is probably just out of my bank account, into the fire, as usual.) They were running a $49 unlimited-yoga-for-a-month special so I was all over that. I looked around at the faux-stone walls and water features in this hyper-yogafied cavelike place and I felt very much at home. I have no idea why. I'm not the definition of serene.
I paid my fee and bought an overpriced tank top and went to Sports Authority to get pants suitable for stretching and sweating in an 85-degree room. The "hot yoga" classes at this studio aren't at the 105 degrees of a Bikram practice, which is really totally fine with me. I'm not in great shape right now, honestly, so I figured I could start with 85 and see where it went.
And it was good. I've always said that I may be fat but I'm flexible, and I am. I didn't embarrass myself. I didn't pass out. Yes, it was hot in there and yes, the Vinyasa flow (warrior and chair and plank and down dog) was challenging. But the couple who own the place taught the class together and they were good. I felt comfortable with them -- not weirded out or bludgeoned with any heavy-handed new age wisdom -- and challenged in my body. I felt like I could center myself there and somehow, moving myself again after months of relative inactivity made me feel better about all of the other things that I currently can't figure out and all of the rest of it that I honestly can't control.
And at the end, Dave had us move our hands quickly but purposefully over the chakras, centers of energy and thought and speech. And somehow, hokey or not, when he put his hands over his throat and mentioned speaking only that which we know to be true and truly believe, something reorganized in my mind. And I don't know how this works but I'll take it, and I'm hoping it sticks.