Every Tuesday and Thursday morning I wake up and make a mental count down.
I tell it to The Man.
Today I whispered in the dark early morning hour, from the depths of my blankets and pillows, "Only three more." And then against every notion in my brain to slip back into oblivion I force my body out of its snug burrow and face a new day.
Give me a second as I stand there in the dark...
Okay. I'm ready.
Frick it's cold today.
The life activities building on campus has been on lock down ever since the bombings at the Boston marathon, though they say it's because they have a new manager. Either way I have a class in that building.
Only three more.
And my student card refuses to work on the door. Every morning since they've decided to keep the doors latched my card will not beep on the pad.
"Call this number."
"I have twice already."
I just turn around and enter with someone else in my class. The people at the desk know us, they've been watching us file by their desk every Tuesday and Thursday morning for the past four months now so they don't say anything as I turn and go in on someone else's card. Hell, they used to click the door open for me.
I think they don't want to deal with the lock down as much as I don't.
Only three more classes my classmates and I grin at each other.
Which is weird because when I started this semester with a class on campus I wasn't at all interested in getting to know any of my classmates. I'm older and just trying to get through to graduation. I wasn't looking for social interaction.
But they're cool and they seem to think the same about me. I'm glad I didn't miss out on that element of class. They're probably the only reason I still face it.
That and the fact that I need a good grade.
I'm an over-achiever like that.
At least the teacher isn't making us suck on raisins anymore.
Only three more.
Showing posts with label yoga. Show all posts
Showing posts with label yoga. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Experience... The Raisin
In an effort to get my general ed done at a cheaper cost on my pocket book, I've been taking classes at the community college.
Last semester I took two classes online that weren't too bad to keep up with.
This semester I again signed up for two online classes (which I have since discovered are going to make my stress levels rise to new heights), and then needing a Health Life class, signed up for a yoga class before work.
Let me tell you, it's not easy rolling out of bed (am I the only one who seems, lately, to get their best sleep in the hour right before the alarm goes off? Only to have it ruined by, well, the alarm?) to tromp across a campus in semi-darkness and subzero temps.
And through frozen-over snow.
And when I finally make it to my yoga class, the room isn't much warmer than the air outside.
I've finally resorted to wearing three layers just to keep from shivering.
The instruction to remove your socks is not a welcomed instruction.
I signed up for a beginning yoga class because, to be perfectly honest, it was the only class offered on the campus that's just 10 minutes from where I work, so even though I've been taking yoga classes for 10+ years, I signed up for that beginning class instead of the intermediate class which might have been more my pace.
On the second morning of class I sat on my yoga mat, which lives in my trunk so I don't forget it, making it nice and icy to sit on, and surrounded by twenty-something bleach blondes who were twirling their hair with their finger, twenty-something emo boys in skinny jeans who were checking out the blondes under hooded eyes, and a handful of lanky jocks who just wanted to learn how to stretch better for basketball.
Life is basketball, man.
I noted that a midst all of this, I still wasn't the oldest the person in the class, but we are certainly a minority.
Our teacher came and started talking about how to "be in the moment."
Something I get after doing yoga for so long. Something I appreciate.
But then she proceeded to pour raisins from a giant bag onto a paper plate and began walking around the chilled class instructing us to take two raisins.
The plate was put in front of my face and I resisted the grimace that I wanted to make.
Face of steel.
And I took two, making sure that at least one of them was the smallest speck of a raisin on the plate.
After the raisins had been distributed, my teacher then sat in front of us, cross-legged, and proceeded to tell us to "experience... the raisin."
We stared at the raisins in our hands.
She asked for thoughts. What did we notice? How did we feel? What memories were stirred? Did we think about the time we ate raisins in our oatmeal? Or about our grandma's oatmeal raisin cookies?
I was annoyed that my fingers were getting sticky from rolling raisins around in my hand.
Then, she proceeded to tell us to put one in our mouth, but as we ate it, we needed to be present in the moment, "experience... the raisin."
I threw it in my mouth and instantly felt the taste. The skin broke and it... crunched in a very unnatural way. I tried to focus on it but all I could think about was if any other fruit were to turn brown and shrivel up, we'd throw it away.
I swallowed it as fast as I could.
And then I sat there for a good five minutes, watching my teacher, eyes closed, hands on knees, rolling her raisin around in her mouth. Experiencing it.
When her eyes finally opened, she told us to do it again with our other raisin.
For another solid five minutes I again watched my teacher roll her raisin around in her mouth, eyes closed, hands on knees.
And again, I just wanted to get through it.
Raisins just are not my thing.
We spent an entire hour, before the sun was up, shivering and trying to stay warm, and just... experiencing... the raisin.
Of all the things I could be doing on a dark, cold morning, this was not what I would have chosen to do.
It's enough to drive a girl to get a McDonald's Coke on her way to work.
Now that I can experience.
Last semester I took two classes online that weren't too bad to keep up with.
This semester I again signed up for two online classes (which I have since discovered are going to make my stress levels rise to new heights), and then needing a Health Life class, signed up for a yoga class before work.
Let me tell you, it's not easy rolling out of bed (am I the only one who seems, lately, to get their best sleep in the hour right before the alarm goes off? Only to have it ruined by, well, the alarm?) to tromp across a campus in semi-darkness and subzero temps.
And through frozen-over snow.
And when I finally make it to my yoga class, the room isn't much warmer than the air outside.
I've finally resorted to wearing three layers just to keep from shivering.
The instruction to remove your socks is not a welcomed instruction.
I signed up for a beginning yoga class because, to be perfectly honest, it was the only class offered on the campus that's just 10 minutes from where I work, so even though I've been taking yoga classes for 10+ years, I signed up for that beginning class instead of the intermediate class which might have been more my pace.
On the second morning of class I sat on my yoga mat, which lives in my trunk so I don't forget it, making it nice and icy to sit on, and surrounded by twenty-something bleach blondes who were twirling their hair with their finger, twenty-something emo boys in skinny jeans who were checking out the blondes under hooded eyes, and a handful of lanky jocks who just wanted to learn how to stretch better for basketball.
Life is basketball, man.
I noted that a midst all of this, I still wasn't the oldest the person in the class, but we are certainly a minority.
Our teacher came and started talking about how to "be in the moment."
Something I get after doing yoga for so long. Something I appreciate.
But then she proceeded to pour raisins from a giant bag onto a paper plate and began walking around the chilled class instructing us to take two raisins.
The plate was put in front of my face and I resisted the grimace that I wanted to make.
Face of steel.
And I took two, making sure that at least one of them was the smallest speck of a raisin on the plate.
After the raisins had been distributed, my teacher then sat in front of us, cross-legged, and proceeded to tell us to "experience... the raisin."
We stared at the raisins in our hands.
She asked for thoughts. What did we notice? How did we feel? What memories were stirred? Did we think about the time we ate raisins in our oatmeal? Or about our grandma's oatmeal raisin cookies?
I was annoyed that my fingers were getting sticky from rolling raisins around in my hand.
Then, she proceeded to tell us to put one in our mouth, but as we ate it, we needed to be present in the moment, "experience... the raisin."
I threw it in my mouth and instantly felt the taste. The skin broke and it... crunched in a very unnatural way. I tried to focus on it but all I could think about was if any other fruit were to turn brown and shrivel up, we'd throw it away.
I swallowed it as fast as I could.
And then I sat there for a good five minutes, watching my teacher, eyes closed, hands on knees, rolling her raisin around in her mouth. Experiencing it.
When her eyes finally opened, she told us to do it again with our other raisin.
For another solid five minutes I again watched my teacher roll her raisin around in her mouth, eyes closed, hands on knees.
And again, I just wanted to get through it.
Raisins just are not my thing.
We spent an entire hour, before the sun was up, shivering and trying to stay warm, and just... experiencing... the raisin.
Of all the things I could be doing on a dark, cold morning, this was not what I would have chosen to do.
It's enough to drive a girl to get a McDonald's Coke on her way to work.
Now that I can experience.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
crane to plank
Sometimes when you have an awesome friend named Stacy, who's getting her certification to be a yoga instructor, you get to go to free yoga classes on Saturday mornings.
As in, not just free to me because she's my friend, but free to everyone because Stacy has to fill some volunteer hours.
You should come.
Also, sometimes when you have an awesome friend named Stacy, who's getting her certification to be a yoga instructor, you get to do crazy group yoga in someone else's front yard in the middle of the night (here).
Here's why I like going to Stacy's yoga classes. And I'm not just saying this because she's my friend, I'm saying this as an impartial yoga class goer.
Stacy is personable and makes you feel comfortable, no matter what your level in yoga is.
When I've gone to other yoga classes, and I've gone to a handful of different places, it turns out the same. The level of difficulty is the same no matter where you go.
But what if we in the class aren't on the same level?
Here's what's cool about Stacy's class. She goes through her class, same as everyone else, but when we come to poses she'll say, "if you want to take if further you can do this..." or she'll say, "if you want something harder then add this..."
I'm learning and trying new poses that I never have before because Stacy is willing to let you take it one step further.
Sometimes that one extra step is really hard and it gets into my yoga junkie blood. Like this new one that I can not do, but heaven help me I will.
Watch this, she does two moves, I'm looking at the second move, crane to plank.
Sometimes when you're learning how to go from crane to plank, you do a face plant or a belly flop or two...
Putting a pillow on the ground under your face is recomended when trying to learn this move, take it from me, I may or may not know a thing or two about this point.
Stacy's classes are great in that she'll show you, if you've never done crane before (or crow), how to start yourself out with how to learn the balance of it, to showing someone like me the possibilities of a harder move. All in the same class.
No matter your level in yoga, you'll walk away feeling satisfied with Stacy's class.
I can't thank Stacy enough for it.
And hopefully by the end of summer, I'll be able to post a video of me going from crane to plank. Put that on my summer bucket list and smoke it.
As in, not just free to me because she's my friend, but free to everyone because Stacy has to fill some volunteer hours.
You should come.
Also, sometimes when you have an awesome friend named Stacy, who's getting her certification to be a yoga instructor, you get to do crazy group yoga in someone else's front yard in the middle of the night (here).
 |
| Casidee trying out her first taste of yoga |
Here's why I like going to Stacy's yoga classes. And I'm not just saying this because she's my friend, I'm saying this as an impartial yoga class goer.
Stacy is personable and makes you feel comfortable, no matter what your level in yoga is.
When I've gone to other yoga classes, and I've gone to a handful of different places, it turns out the same. The level of difficulty is the same no matter where you go.
But what if we in the class aren't on the same level?
Here's what's cool about Stacy's class. She goes through her class, same as everyone else, but when we come to poses she'll say, "if you want to take if further you can do this..." or she'll say, "if you want something harder then add this..."
I'm learning and trying new poses that I never have before because Stacy is willing to let you take it one step further.
Sometimes that one extra step is really hard and it gets into my yoga junkie blood. Like this new one that I can not do, but heaven help me I will.
Watch this, she does two moves, I'm looking at the second move, crane to plank.
Sometimes when you're learning how to go from crane to plank, you do a face plant or a belly flop or two...
Putting a pillow on the ground under your face is recomended when trying to learn this move, take it from me, I may or may not know a thing or two about this point.
Stacy's classes are great in that she'll show you, if you've never done crane before (or crow), how to start yourself out with how to learn the balance of it, to showing someone like me the possibilities of a harder move. All in the same class.
No matter your level in yoga, you'll walk away feeling satisfied with Stacy's class.
I can't thank Stacy enough for it.
And hopefully by the end of summer, I'll be able to post a video of me going from crane to plank. Put that on my summer bucket list and smoke it.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Our Birthday Present to You... Yoga in Your Frontyard While You're Inside Sleeping
And some love hearts on your lawn.
We do this. Sometimes. Randomly. We toilet papered for the last friend's birthday.
We left our hearts and we took our pictures and posted them on facebook with the birthday girl sufficiently tagged. Can you imagine how funny it is to wake up and not only see the love out on your yard, but to then find this on facebook?:
You never can tell what may happen in your frontyard while you're sleeping. Partner yoga? Totally awesome.
We do this. Sometimes. Randomly. We toilet papered for the last friend's birthday.
We left our hearts and we took our pictures and posted them on facebook with the birthday girl sufficiently tagged. Can you imagine how funny it is to wake up and not only see the love out on your yard, but to then find this on facebook?:
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Dead Pigeon Pose
My sister, McKell, got me into Yoga 12 years ago. I have since been a believer in it, and Pilates, as a form of exercise (mind, body, and soul). My favorite way to start the weekend is to hit the Yoga class at the gym.Today we were on our backs with one leg straight in the air, the other leg crossed across it right above the knee, and our hands holding onto the back of the extended leg's thigh. The teacher, trying to explain how to do this says, "it's kind of like pigeon pose, only on your backs with your leg straight. I don't know what to call it, my mind just went blank!" And continues to fumble through a description (as there were some beginners who needed a little extra help). After she said that though, all I could think of was a dead pigeon with it's legs in the air!
This is a what pigeon pose actually looks like, and is nothing like what we were doing! What we were doing, evidently, has been dubbed dead pigeon pose in my mind.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
