Astanga

I’m done with that meditation group. I’ve always had issues with the facilitator. She seems very controlling to me. This time, she made each of us ’sign in’ so she could ‘keep track’ of our participation. Also, she stands by the ‘donation’ jar so she can view exactly how much you ‘donate.’ It’s creepy.

But now I even have issues with the space. Previously we were meeting in the common room of a lovely community centre, which was fine. But this time? We met in the ‘group therapy’ room of the city’s notoriously run-down mental health centre.

This building so decrepit, depressing and despair-soaked that it’s slated to be torn down. Misery practically oozes from the walls. I escaped at the first possible opportunity and headed to a party.

I didn’t think I would be in any mood to be with people, but it turns out that as exactly what I needed. Old friends, laughter and a few handfuls of potato chips made it all better. I stayed till 2 a.m. and left happy.

Five hours of sleep and there I was on the mat practising the Primary Series, thank you WoYoPracMo. I would have been full of excuses if I hadn’t promised myself to practise every day this month. But it was fine, good even.

I even did all three of my bloody backbends, with only small groans of protest. I’m discovering that for me, preparation poses are absolutely a must for comfortable backbending. Tomorrow, I’m going to do an experiment: no prep.

I haven’t taken a State-of-the-Backbend shot in quite a while. Here it is. In all my pasty-white winter goodness (obviously, I didn’t get away to a warm place over the holidays):