In The Moment

I didn't like yoga when I first started it, about six months ago. It was boring, repetitive, and too slow. I didn't see the point. But for some reason, I stuck with it. Little by little, I started to like it. After a couple of months, I could get half way through a class before I got bored. Now, I am not ready to stop when the class ends. I've learned alot from it. It's purposefully slow, that's the point. To be mindful. To be focused. To be in the moment. And to be flexible, and open. A by product is the fact that it is a form of exercise. That's not the real reason for yoga. I get that, now. I thought it was for exercise. It's for alot more than that. It was just what I needed, when I started, but I didn't know it, then. Now I do. The other day, in class, the instructor said something about sticking with a particular pose that seemed to be giving everyone problems. His point was to stick with it because soon enough, it will change. Much like everything else around us. He said to focus on that very moment and nothing further. I focused on what was outside the window. A streetlight shines into our class, and snowflakes were floating very gently through it's beam. It was beautiful. It was mesmerizing. I wanted to stay in that moment, but soon we had to move on to a different pose, and a different vantage point. When I left class, the snowflakes were still falling ever so gently. The walk home was peaceful. All felt pretty right with the world. It was the night of the lunar eclipse. A perfect way to end the evening. Half the moon was visible above the skyscrapers. I think I missed these things, before. Before yoga. Back then, in my "other" life. THAT life, the one that seemed to have gone on so long ago now. Is it the yoga that has made me more aware, or something else, or the combination? Who knows. I'm just glad I am.

On The Occasion Of A C-Scan

I recently had the occasion to have a C scan. Not to worry, really nothing important at all, thankfully. I waited in the same waiting room Lou and I waited in so many,many times for his MRIs. Was taken into the scan room, laid on the table. The feelings it brought back were visceral. All the times we walked into those rooms. All the times Lou went into the machine, all the times I held onto his feet while the machine did it's duty. All the times I helped him get through the maze of the dressing room. All the times he did not know why he was there, what he was doing. All the times he was such a good egg about it all. My stomach hurt thinking about it. I wonder if those thoughts ever stop. I wonder if I'll ever be able to walk into that hospital without feeling anxious. When I walked out, the sun was shining. I remembered all the times we walked home, hand in hand, until such time that wasn't possible. As if it were a date we were on. It was a date,then. Those were our dates, those times. The very last time we went for a scan, Lou wanted to stop off at the restaurant across the street afterwards. It was our last date. I passed the restaurant on my way home and smiled. We did the best we could. It was good. As good as it could be. I have to remember that, when the pit comes back to my stomach. And it will. It does. I have to remember, it was good. As good as it could be.