Flossing in my basement

Just a guess here, but I'm thinking that you, like me, have a (relatively) long list of things you miss.  You missed.  You continue to miss on account of the unprecedented COVID-19.  Some probably have more degrees of significance than others.  On the good days, you're able to put the list into perspective. When the days aren't so smooth, at least for me, the list becomes a thousand ton weight pressing on all internal organs, smooshing them into one indistinguishable mass.  (There's a descriptor, right?)

Something I have found very useful when I'm feeling smooshed, and even when I'm not, is practicing yoga.  

I can viscerally remember the first yoga class I took.  It was shortly after my mom "went down", becoming bedridden following the rupture of an abdominal abdominal aneurysm.  (She lived 4 years, way beyond statistical prediction, and was the happiest bedridden woman on the block during most of that time, but I digress).  At the end of the class, I felt as if I had been rinsed out.  I couldn't believe that practicing yoga kept my mind quiet for an entire hour!  Now I realize that yoga, just like anything, doesn't necessarily speak to everyone in this same way.  But I am incredibly grateful it sings lovely harmonies to me.

I value my yoga practice both in Minnesota and Florida.  Admittedly the scenery while practicing is much lusher and calming and beautiful than from the studio windows in Florida. However I feel blessed that my yoga teachers in both places bring their yogi souls to the studios (or beach) and I benefit enormously from them.

During this time, I follow yoga practices online.  The other day it occurred to me how fortunate the technology exists to make that possible.  Way, way, way back in the day, I would have to try to memorize exercises so I could do them at home.  Or lay out a magazine that had photos and graphics and try to decipher them into actions.  Today I have a choice of options from which to scroll through and then follow.  The yoga instructor talks me through the entire practice; I don't have to read what the pose is, then do it, then read the next sequence (et cetera, et cetera, et cetera).

However, I am following them alone.  In my basement.  And I really would prefer to be in the yoga studio or the gym or the pool (my pool ladies, I miss you!) than by myself with Hank (the beagle) watching from the couch.  Or, if we're going to be really honest here, sleeping from the couch.

The poses and twists and openers and strength moves in yoga are instrumental in removing the toxins from my body.  It's as if there is a giant container of floss that accompanies me onto the yoga mat and as the instructor gently encourages going deeper in the pose, that floss just goes back and forth, removing the stressors and tightness.

So, here's to flossing in my basement.  And I'll take a moment here to request that you advise, encourage, admonish, threaten, whatever it takes the younger people in your life (looks like the 18-40 age group) to please wear a mask and social distance if/when they go out.  While I'm fortunate to have a very comfortable basement to floss in, it would be very nice to be back among my friends, sharing the energy we create when we practice together.