Monday, January 26, 2009

Hot Yoga

still sucked. no, really. it sucked. I had a hard time doing the poses, had to stop and sit out some. I swear this was the hottest class EVER. I saw the thermostat, it was over 115 degrees farenheight(sp?) in there.

still, got through it.

just before I was talking to someone who I had spoken to before I stopped going (about 2 months ago). Honestly, though, my sister is the talkative one, but she recognized me.

She asked what got me into bikram, and I sort of talked a bit about M. I said that I started going last summer while my partner was very ill, and that it was just hard to go home.

I hadn't said that to anyone. I know that I went as a way to work through issues, once a week, in an environment that tested me. I know that it was cathartic.

But never that it was a way to avoid coming home.

While in savasana I thought about this. I thought about whether I had been trying to escape the reality that was my life. I was hit by feelings of guilt, that I had left him alone to go to something relatively frivolous and decidedly selfish. It was all for me, only for me.

For a moment, I was hit by a wave of guilt. Slammed, really.

And I felt M, right there with me, holding my hand. He reminded me that he wanted me to go to yoga, that he felt better when I was more relaxed and that it helped us both.

So what if I was hallucinating from the heat?

It was comforting.

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