First Blog Post of the New Year

Do you ever do that thing where you wake up on the first day of the first month of a new year in a new decade where you think, "Oh, the first text message of the new year"..."Ah, the first cup of coffee of the new year"....like that?

It occurred to me this morning, when I received aforementioned text (at 7am...but from someone in another time zone so I forgive her), that my kid self did it a lot. Almost obsessively compulsively a lot. I have no idea why I was so struck by the occasion of things being a first; particularly given that we're not talking here about significant firsts (like cars or kisses). It was all of the ordinary and mundane: "this is my first breakfast of the new year"... "this is the first time I'm making my bed in the new year"..."I am not going to yell at my sister Martha Stewart for that stupid thing she just did because if I did then it would be my first yelling in the new year and I don't want to start out the new year like that"...

Maybe it was (is) my latent Celtic DNA, something that makes me predisposed to embrace turnings, shifts and tilts and to look for some personal meaning therein. I will, very shortly, cease the running "this is the first time..." commentary because my brain will refill with other noises. But it is a reminder of the importance not so much of firsts but of mindfulness. It's easy to be mindful on New Years Day. Because all is quiet on New Years Day. It's a day for lying around, for recovering from the night before. And in the quiet and the not-doing of New Years Day it is much easier to be aware. And that's still a quality I'd like to better cultivate in myself.

You know what I just realized? I've been very mindful so far in the new year. Yay me!

Happy felicitated new year!

Om

Every Wednesday a group of yoga folks come to the house for an hour of instruction. It seemed like a nice thing to do for our families; they are all under stress and we all know that remembering to breathe, really breathe, is something people forget to do when they're stressed. So the yoga folks come and do their breathe-y thing and it's great.

I've always wanted to do it but I never seem able to pull myself away from my desk. Or else I have to take off to get The Child from rehearsal or some other thing. But last night she was rehearsing until 6:30 so I figured it was the perfect opportunity to give it a whirl.

I've always been a pretty flexible person. One of my personal Stupid People Tricks is that I can put my leg behind my head. (It's not extremely useful in most situations but it makes for good entertainment at parties). And being able to stretch all the way out made me feel very smug when we did our first Downward Dog. Plus it felt awesome. Then we did some other poses and I began to discover unpleasant places in my back. There were a few muscles that started screaming. It sounded sort of like, "Hey! You there, in the Warrior Pose. You wanna knock that off? We're sleepin' here". I ignored them and posed and breathed and then when we laid down for our final visualization I thought that dying was as good an option as anything else.

But I didn't. Victoria pulled my legs and rubbed my back and the angry muscles grumbled off to get a scotch. They weren't necessarily happy about being awake but at least they weren't yelling at me anymore.

During the visualization Molly was saying all the yoga instructor stuff about "Picture yourself in a place that you love...somewhere calm and beautiful....it might be an ocean or a mountain peak..." etc etc etc. I tried to go to the ocean, which I do love. But the place that kept popping into my head was the Balcony of Terror, 50 stories above the Chicago River. Not a very typical yoga place, but one that is, to me, one of the most beautiful views in all the world. And a place with exceedingly good associations. So I sat on the balcony, watching the sunlight dappled the water, turning the sounds of washing machines and folks making dinner into street noise and it was pretty awesome.

The good news is that, despite some earlier fears, I'm not walking dead this morning. Actually, I feel pretty fantastic. This yoga thing might be just the ticket.

Now I have to go see if The Cat is done killing a mouse in The Child's room. Gross.