I’m lying flat on my back on the living room floor. My arms out to the sides, I can feel the scratchy texture of the carpet. Adriene from the “Yoga With Adriene” videos I follow on YouTube is speaking to me from the TV, telling me to hug my shoulder blades together underneath me. Most of the time, I’m not really sure how to follow her instructions well, but I’ve got this shoulder blade hugging thing down. It’s my favorite part. I stare at the popcorn ceiling above me and wonder why popcorn ceilings exist. What was the point? Who is to blame? I need answers. Alice, my cat, reads the room and solemnly drops her mouse that rattles near me, expecting me to throw it. Her favorite activity is fetch, like a dog. The best times for fetch, in her mind, are the least opportune times for us. Alice is never not trying to make fetch happen. Fulfilling my role in this family as Bad Cop/Bad Cat Parent, I ignore the mouse.
Now Adriene is instructing me to take the biggest breath I’ve taken yet today. I’ve followed the same video often in the last few months since it’s one of my favorites, and sometimes that deep breath feels almost painful depending on what’s going on in my life. She says to take a moment and accept and let go whatever is weighing me down. I try to focus and picture accepting and letting things go, like dandelions to the wind. What’s going on with my family…I can’t change those dandelions! Fearful thoughts and anxiety…you can’t weigh me down, you’re just dandelions! Infuriating creative decisions on Star Trek Discovery…not today, Satan! Get behind me, dandelions! Please don’t ask me what I think about Star Trek Discovery. It’s in everyone’s best interests. Self care, people!
At the end of the video, I say namaste to Adriene and click through to a video of “Relaxing Spa Music”to listen to while I continue lying still and breathing. It evokes a feeling I’ve only felt before in church services when introspective instrumental music plays before something like communion. I’ve been working on not bursting into tears at this point. Or more truthfully, I’m working on being okay with the possibility (or probability) bursting into tears at this point. I don’t feel like I understand yoga (or my body at all for that matter) yet. All I know is that I made a positive choice to do something that’s just for me, and that’s why I’m lying flat on my back on my living room floor.