I sometimes wonder how spacey I am as I drive to practice. Very, I suspect.

Met up with Renaissance Man and his daughter, The Cat, in the parking lot this morning.

“We were driving next to you and I told The Cat to wave,” said Renaissance Man. “You never looked over. You were in the zone.”

“It’s a good thing you remembered to stop at the lights,” quipped The Cat.


After kapotasana B, VBG says, “Okay…” expectantly.

I put my hands down, and no WAY am I going to be able to support myself in a handstand.

“I can’t…” I say, “I just don’t have it in me.”

“Jump back,” he says, sounding slightly perplexed.

Oh, uh, duh! Apparently the handstand orders were all in my own head.


Saturday at led class, VBG brought us through the first third of second (amusing phrase). Anyhow, I was really happy to see how different it is now than when I started second. Gone are the days when I panted through the poses. No more hideous nausea. It was a nice illustration of how practice just does the trick and all of my worrying about progress is pretty much my own little trip.


Today I struggled to get my toes in kapotasana. That’s the big opportunity for despair in my current practice. VBG helped me finally find my toes, but it seems like it’s getting harder, rather than easier. And then I thought about what I’d experienced on Saturday and realized that if I practice consistently until this time next year, I will be able to get my toes easily. Whether I fill the trip with despair and moments of anguish is entirely up to me.


The Sicilian’s last practice with us. She’s off for a world tour with her husband, including a trip to Goa to study with Rolf, who she considers her main teacher, and then they’ll settle in San Francisco.

Sad to see her go.


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