“It is easy to see what a marvelous physical developer the dance is. After a week of lessons I felt like a new person. If people could realize the good of the dance there would be no need for the queer antics they go through to gain health and strength.” — Betty Compson in 1922 | Photographer: Eugene Robert Richee | Source: bizarrela.com
I went from a job with years of almost constant movement, to sitting at a desk with almost none.
Constant movement feels better.
Last November, I was feeling lousy and began to loose time watching other people move on social media. Have you seen Charlie DecaVita? (check her out below ↓)
January was my chance for a fresh start and I felt ready. Jazz Hands!
I've never felt completely comfortable at a gym, so I started looking into alternatives. The orange thing, the ballerina barre workout, and throwing giant ropes around in cross-fit.
Betty probably would have declared these methods as queer antics, but I think they're all alright. Just not for me, not right now.
I really didn't know where to begin, so I let it go.
Then one day, like so many days before, I drove past my neighborhood yoga studio. Here was my answer, right in front of me. It was conveniently located, and the practice is served up warm, with a toasty side of zen.
I've been going there about three months now, and yoga's been quietly coaxing my movement-seeking soul out of storage. And while I'm marginally less terrible than I was in January, it's somehow making me more patient with my body. In appreciation, my body's slowly beginning to comply.
Once it gets warmer, I've goals to walk to the studio instead of driving. This year, I'm all about what works for me, and yoga feels really good.
Brand new and trendy, or 5,000 years old, we're lucky to be spoilt for choice.