conference yoga

DAY 1
A living room floor in a friend's house. To my left, a coffee table pushed flush against the wall but still close enough to connect with outstretched limbs. On my right, an antique couch bearing destroyed seat cushions, the latest victims of a bored teenaged puppy. In front of me, four very curious cats watching every move with great interest. The one introduced as 'the most vicious of them all' was also the most curious of them all. She took to walking under me while I was in downward dog, letting her tail brush across my face, under my nose, in my eyes, as she moved back and forth. I worried about injuring her during jumpbacks.

DAY 2
Began at stupid-o-clock as I snuck out of my room, mat bag in hand, to avoid waking my coworker. Wandered the Mezzanine floor looking for an open, non-AC room to practice before resigning myself to the gym. Tucked into the corner, weight-press-thingy to my left, exercise bikes behind me, mirrors to my front and right. Mirrors are devastating. My asanas which feel like beauty are actually very ugly and my body which I'm usually able to make peace with is puffy, pudgy, and even uglier. Trolls sneak in, my mind begins to obsess, self-loathing takes over until I focus, focus, focus - come back to the breath, come back to this moment, come back to driste and it all fades away. Gone. Beauty returns.

DAY 3
Back in the gym. Same spot. Same trolls. Same retreat to what actually matters - the breath, the driste, the moment. Arms are not straight, back arches, stomach puffs, it doesn't matter. I'm here, I'm blessed with a body that carries me through my day, and this moment is a good one; this is what matters. Behind me a woman talks loudly to her friend, explaining that she doesn't watch TV because she needs silence in order to hear God speaking to her. I know what she means and, after three days of conference talking, talking, talking, I long for this silence.

I begin, for the first time, to really look forward to India. Months of injuries, rotating teachers at my home shala, stolen moments on friends' floors or in hotel gyms; I long to be in India with one teacher where I can stay put, stay still, and stay quiet.