I broke from routine this morning: I did yoga instead of coffee. A few Salutes to the Sun on this beautiful (beautiful!) day ... except we were holed up in a lovely indoor space tucked behind Channing Memorial Church. That's the one with the particularly pointy stone steeple that was taken down and put back up again within the past couple of years ... the one with the newly-installed (or reinstalled) bells. There are yoga classes at the Congregational Church, too, or so I've been told; that's the flat-topped spot a bit farther down the hill, being "Historic Hill."
Anyway, it — yoga — happened because I ran into a friend on the street, last week at some point, when I was walking home from my usual coffee run, and she was just emerging from yoga class. She's the teacher. Channing Memorial is very close to my home. No excuses, in other words. So I showed up this morning — not only dragging (due to lack of caffeine) but reluctant (due to lack of flexibility). And it was great. Especially the narrative about feeling, in fact making, a bodily connection between Earth and Sun (on Earth Day, no less). Then the position called Extended Child; I liked that one. It was even comfortable. And the music was nice ... something familiar yet unfamiliar: Amazing Grace in Cherokee by a group named Walela. It was peaceful, shall we say, yet rhythmic. The class required strength and focus as much as flexibility. That's obvious, I realize; I just haven't done much yoga. We never even did Downward Dog, the only move I knew ...
And it reminded me — however that works — of standing on a chair in my backyard a few days ago and trying to keep my balance as I watched a very busy bee buzzing into and out of a flower on a cherry tree. The cherries are gone now ... the cherry blossoms, that is. The petals fell or flew or blew through the air, all in one day it seemed, and became a pale-pink, spring snow-of-sorts on the ground. But, hey, the dogs and crabs are out (!!), as Mr. Betty remarked cheerfully while looking out the window at assorted flowering trees this morning, as I was dragging myself out of bed, somewhat crabbily, to go to yoga. There's always something, isn't there?? Snow melts; crabbiness passes. New stuff arises. Stuff even blooms ...
A few of these shots are old, as you may have guessed ...
