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2003-01-25 | 9:28 p.m.
corduroy licorice kept his dog on a short leash. he liked little scruffy to be within petting distance at all times, even on walks.
going to yoga class is becoming part of my regular routine, thanks to the generosity of a-d-d chick. when she moved to singapore recently, she gave me her remaining class passes and i've been getting more and more yoga-fied ever since.
it feels darn good to stretch and pose and relax on a little strip of plastic mat every saturday morning. i'm taking a "gentle" class, which is just my speed. the funny thing is that my teacher seems to be less gentle with me than my classmates.
if she catches me making a wrong move, she'll grab my offending body part and reposition it. once when i had my head facing in the wrong direction, she stuck her hands on in and turned my noggin like she was installing a lightbulb. i didn't pay no never mind to her routine until i notice that before she'd readjust other yoga-ers, she sweetly inquire, "may i touch you?"
i don't get it. do i look easy? do i give off "fold, bend and mutate at will" vibes? or can she tell that i'm more self-actualized than those around me and am not tied down by the limits of verbal communication? i'm pretty sure it's that last one.
sometimes when the whole class is in the "six feet under" pose, i have flashbacks to preschool nap time. there's something very soothing about resting in a darkened room with inner peace being your only priority. when i was six, it seemed like torture. i guess it's only when one becomes an adult that they fully realize their aptitude for naptitude.
take a peek at these - (c) 2000-2003 nictate:
quibbling with quitherfeather
catcher in the wry