"The divine in me honors the divine in you" - or so I've been told.
Last night, I started yoga class again. Again might be a bit misleading, since the last time I went to yoga classes I still lived in Chicago and I only went spring term of my senior year. But even after only one class, I'm so happy to be doing this again.
Yoga is wonderful for impatient exercise types like me. I love that even in a one hour class, I can feel improvement in my postures - the fourth or fifth time around on a pose, and I remember how my hips are supposed to line up. I remember what it feels like to let my head and neck hang loosely, and to straighten my spine. These are good things to remember.
I also like being in yoga class because I like the instructors. Yoga teachers have a calm energy about them, as though nothing can phase them. Maybe they aren't like that outside of class - but to spend an hour a week with someone who seems so grounded certainly can't be bad for those of us who try to be grounded and non-anxious the rest of the time.
Of course, all this happiness may just be related to how much better my back feels today. Note to self: If you wish to keep picking up the godson-who-got-very-big-lateley, keep going to the yoga class.