Dec 7

(I'll start with a shout out to all my yoga girlfriends, aka Harmonious Warriors or
Be Jane! Yoginis  because you know how fantastic your yoga practice makes a body feel! You go, Janes!)

I must confess I may have reached my peak by attending Birkam yoga. You can read the official description of Birkam (on Wiki) but all you really need to know is that it's traditionally held in a 100º room. Compare that to your household's heat. Most of my thermostat wars had me campaigning  for 72º (I know, Jimmy Carter, but even as the  Queen of Green I still have my green sins.) Of course, now that I'm living solo, I actually do win that war t home but the drafty, ancient renovated farmhouse I'm staying in can't get to 72º if my life depended on it.

Sooo, one hundred degrees!! Man, it felt great to walk into the studio, and even better to lie down in it! It was like lying at a very quiet, hot beach without the worry of UV rays or refridgerator-sized boomboxes (remember those?) or seagulls swooping down to steal your french fries or baby's pacifier (which actually happened to niece Gina when she was a baby. She was not happy. Believe me, no one nearby was happy.)

Aaaanyway, I had a good ten-minute lie down which was all ruined for me when an instructor started making us move. Bummer! Strong men started sweating buckets and young ballerina-types bent in half, then in fourths, and I struggled along, coached by a soft-spoken drill sergeant that remembered my name from the sign-in sheet. No hiding. Not even in the last row!

Well, we all know that yoga practice is just that- practice. It's not about perfection and it's not competitive. And thankfully not a team sport, so I didn't let anyone down when I decided I was too lightheaded too often to do much moving around.  Too bad. But rather than walk out, I laid down and gratefully soaked up more heat. Niiiice. Turns out I do like hot yoga but only in the Corpse Pose.  : )

Namaste.