As of late yoga playlists seem to have taken on a purple persuasion. It’s strange. Weeks before your passing I was listening to you on a daily. And now you’re gone.
I hate the celebrity tributes and calculated wording by publicists representing those who never represented you. I hate the coolness of others as they try to hip folk to that which is optimistic when really it’s just another post about themselves.
I weeped in class the other day because I’m still not ready to share my loss with strangers. Not in that moment. Not in that setting. Yoga didn’t help that day. Nor did I bend hope or expectation in an upward direction silently wishing for your return. I looked up anyway. You were not there.
So I carry you with me. Forever in my heart. No matter how heavy the vibe gets. I love you Prince…
Yoga is hard enough. Shit like this makes it even harder. No amount of focused breathing or meditative state can free up the vibe when there are constant disruptions.
- Music is too loud. Hey! guru I’m talking to you. I can’t hear you.
- Body odor. Yogis, wash your ass before coming to class.
- Dirty feet. It’s no treat especially when our mats meet.
- Fragrance is no romance. Ya’ killin’me loudly with da’ patchouli Julie.
- Circus freaks. Acrobats who ain’t in the know and go opposite of the flow.
- Boot camp troupe. Counting down. 1..2…3…Wait! Is this a gym class?
- Monotone zone. Guru, descend from your throne. Falling asleep over here. I am not alone.
- Yogi chatter. Way too much of it. And y’all hella loud. Respect the space upon entering and leaving. Quietly.
I could go on. But it’s 5:37 in the a.m. Need a few hours of sleep before reaching for my next steep.
I will say this. My reluctance to join a yoga studio has not only been because of the exorbitant monthly fees. A greater portion of it is because yoga studios have incorporated so much fitness that it attracts that gym class competitive attitude amongst their clients. No bueno.
It shows a lack of respect and regard for the practice. And it’s annoying as funk. I like when I walk into a studio and I read signs that encourage people to disconnect from the outside once they come inside. But it’s not very often. I’ll let that one sink in. No trend.
Reading more. Talking less. Juice in between. Life scenes.
I’m always moving. Even in my sleep. This funky lil’ green through summer I shall keep. Love my life!
whole frickin’ apple
huge handful of spinach
went with ginger today instead of turmeric
Been gettin’ my chaturanga on, as of late, at Yoga Salt in Culver City. Groovy flow. Shoulder heavy. Keepin’ the vibe steady.
A few months of ridding myself of all routine has allowed me to peer closer at myself. Still not sure what it is that I see. Or long for. It changes daily. What I do know is that weight loss and gain has absolutely nothing to do with the physical. It is the result of the emotional baggage we refuse to let go of that curves our spine, expands the waist and protrudes the belly. If you are not giving birth let it go.
Woke up with thoughts of Pilates. Didn’t make the rush or the two slow ass buses. Spotted my pink Pegasus’ on the floor. Thought why not? Been a couple of weeks since my last run. Not a runner. Don’t like to run unless I’m being chased or have a basketball in my hand. Real talk.
Run. Trot. Some cardio in between. Didn’t focus on how slow I was moving. Just that I was moving. By the time Nappy Roots started spittin’ the burning and itching had disappeared and I’d found my stride. Baby steps. Today’s run was dedicated to all the black men wrongfully convicted and currently incarcerated enduring years of a lengthy appeals process. Their families too. That’s peace.
Pre Workout Oatmeal with cranberries, cinnamon, agave, unsweetened vanilla almond milk + decaf green tea with lemon
Post Workout Blueberry Blast(recipe below)
Sun Warrior Raw Vegan Protein(chocolate)
unsweetened vanilla almond milk
Love going backwards in order to go forward. Wicked hot on Wednesday. Didn’t keep me from hitting the city. Board life. No strife. Skated so much ended up jamming my left big toe. Braking too hard. New bearings. Board’s hella fast now. Charlie, here’s your pass now.
Below Sunset. Above the rest.
School’s out. Forever.
Mork & Mending
Hollywould. If they let cha.
If only to catch a glimpse.
Back on the boulevard.
Moon child run free.
The only time I feel free is when I’m writing. It requires no measure of patience. Nor a listening ear. Only my heartbeat. A wandering soul knows no comfort. No place of refuge. I only have my pen.