6.21.22
I have this feeling inside my brain like there are all these words moving around trying to make sentences, paragraphs, and stories. I don’t know how to get them out exactly. I’m not sure if it’s something I can do by will or if I just have to wait until they flow out of me.
At breakfast this morning N said he stayed up late reading a short story by Jordan Castro, called Skydiving, about going skydiving with his parents. N said it was really good. I said maybe I would read it and it would help me write. I just finished reading it and I really loved it. It was so funny and I felt like I was right there with him and his parents and his girlfriend, like I was the younger sister or something. I also started listening to the Argonauts by Maggie Neilson on Audible, it’s read by the author. I was immediately sucked in and in awe of how genius she is. I felt like I was getting smarter instantly just by listening to her words on the L train.
This morning I woke up way earlier than normal to go to a “sunrise flow” yoga class at this yoga studio in Bushwick that I have an unlimited week at because I am a first time student. When I first opened my eyes after hearing the “chimes” alarm sounding from my iPhone, I immediately thought I wasn’t going to be able to get out of bed and go. I knew I had another alarm set for 10 minutes later at 6:40am, so I turned off the alarm and decided to decide in 10 minutes. 10 minutes later “chimes” sounded again and I surprised myself by sitting up and walking to the bathroom.
About 15 minutes later I was walking to the Bedford train station. Last week I also went to “sunrise flow” and that day when I woke up it was raining and I still went. Today, the sun was out and as I listened to the birds chirping, I thought about how in an hour or so, I would thank myself for making it to yoga this morning after the teacher would undoubtedly prompt us to thank ourselves for making it to our mats.
I got off the train at Morgan station and double checked the walking route to the yoga studio because last time I had walked a block in the wrong direction. I didn’t really need to check because I knew I could just walk in the opposite direction as last time, but I needed the visual security of seeing the blue dot on Google Maps following the blue trail.
0.4 miles later I arrived at the yoga studio, checked in at the front desk, thought about making a cup of tea at their tea station, decided not to, went pee, put my stuff in a locker, took a rental mat from the rack of mats and laid it down in the same exact spot as last time. I got two blocks, then went back to the front desk and asked to borrow a towel, “of course” the woman said. I laid down on my mat with my legs crossed and one hand on my heart and one hand on my belly.
The yoga instructor, Kate, a pretty blonde woman, probably in her early 40s, walked around the room and chatted with the regulars. Overhearing the conversations I learned that Kate usually teaches at night, but because it’s the summer she has “built in free child care sleeping at home,” so she can teach in the morning. I imagined Kate’s husband sleeping in their bed, and her kids, probably two of them, maybe aged 7 and 4, starting to stir, about to go wake up daddy.
Kate asked if anybody was new to her class. This guy two rows behind me sitting next to another guy who seemed to have brought him, raised his hand. She went over and they exchanged hello and he said something that led to her telling him to feel free to sit out the side planks. She went over to another new girl who raised her hand, exchanged a similar hello, then started walking toward the front of the room. I waved my hand, I wasn’t sure that I was going to identify myself as new, I had been to a class here once before, but not her class, “hey, I’m Maya.” She turned, crouched next to my mat, looked at me, and asked how I was feeling or if there was anything she needed to know about. Her eyes were open and piercing, I felt for a moment like I was going to cry, and then I said, “Uh, not really, I’m feeling good…strong.” She repeated the word “strong” loudly and said “nice!” Over the course of the class she said a few things like, “be with what you are feeling now. Maybe you are feeling tired, grateful, or even…strong.” And “feel the four corners of your feet on the mat, stand tall, strong like a mountain.” Every time she said the word “strong” she would look at me, sort of raise her eyebrows, and smile a bit, as if to say, hey I’m using your word.