Getting to Yoga
Leaving the house with zero minutes to spare
Getting to yoga is stressful. I put the decision off as long as possible, wondering, will I go or not? Should I go or not? I ask my friends. I ask my family, “Should I go to yoga?”
“Should I go to yoga? My friend is teaching tonight. I should go to yoga. I should go to yoga.” The time ticks away. The minutes tick away. It's raining. I haven't eaten a proper meal. Let's think about it: If I do go to yoga, I'll feel good about myself. I'll do my body right. My body will thank me. If I don't go to yoga, a body at rest tends to stay at rest. Inertia will get me.
I'm getting to yoga. I'm blowing off red lights, driving like a jerk.
It's not worth getting into a car accident on the way to yoga. It's not worth all the tension and anxiety I create for myself by leaving the house with zero minutes to spare on a rainy day. But I'm getting to yoga.
Once I'm there, I'll think to myself, I'm getting to yoga. I get to yoga. I get to do yoga. What a privilege. What a pleasure. Level 1, no less; that's me, that's my speed right now. I can do Level 2, I should be Level 2, but Level 1 is better than zero yoga—so, here I go. Here I am. I am here, with my own beloved, ragged mat, and hopefully some friends.
