Six months ago I said I was going to blog every day for a year. That lasted three weeks. Not that I have been slacking off! I haven’t been sitting around in a haze of medical marijuana binge watching Game of Thrones. Well, I have been binge watching Game of Thrones, but the only haze has been courtesy of my Tantric Turmeric Kombucha.
And I have to say- Tantric is a real over reach. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a solid Kombucha, but hours of ecstasy it is not. Overall, I think Turmeric is getting a little uppity. I get that you’re good for me, but it’s time that spice to take a cold shower and settle the heck down.
I’ve been busy in the time I haven’t been blogging. I finished another round of chemo. I’ve been teaching. I did a play in Alabama. I’m getting ready to start radiation therapy. I wrote a book. I became a vegan. About a month and a half ago I started doing Hot Yoga. Basically I’m one incense stick away from being an honorary citizen of Asheville.
The hot yoga is a big development. I did it for a little while in New York and had been wanting to try it again. A studio near my house was having a New Client Special- $21 for 21 days. I liked it so much that after my three weeks was up I decided to join for real. The monthly membership is more expensive than a dollar a day, so if you hear about some guy panhandling in a Tree Pose, assume that it’s me.
Going to class has become a highlight of my day, and has made all my movements infinitely more dramatic. I can’t bend over to pick up the remote without passing through Peaceful Warrior. I make my salads in Half Moon. Where Jaimie and I used to spoon to fall asleep, now I simply kiss her good night and find Child’s Pose.
I joined the studio for several reasons. First, the exercise. Considering I’ve been on chemo for the better part of two years, I figured it would be a good way to sweat out some of these toxins. Then there is the spiritual element. I have recently found myself a bit of a religious orphan. I had found this church I really liked, but during a homily one Sunday the priest said that Planned Parenthood was started by Nazis, and that maybe we would have a cure for cancer if someone hadn’t aborted the fetus who was going to discover it. That annoyed me, so I left and haven’t been back. I decided to try being Unitarian for a few weeks, but after forty years in the Catholic church I found the overwhelming acceptance a little too much to handle. That and the announcements were really long.
So I decided to throw myself into hot yoga. And things had been going great! I was finding spiritual bliss. I started to see one of my abs.
Then yesterday happened.
I left the 9:30 class, sat in my car for a minute, and realized that I was in a horrible mood. Which was weird, because I was pretty sure yoga was supposed to solve all my problems. That’s why it was invented. So progressive Americans could feel Chill.
But yesterday I didn’t feel Chill. I had to run errands all over town. I had paper work to deal with. I’ve had a cough for the past two months and that was driving me crazy. I’m trying to give up plastic for Lent and left the grocery store only to realize that I had bought blueberries and the container was fucking plastic. And to top it off- on the way home from the store there was a 20 year old in a Red VW Bug blocking the intersection, texting the entire time. The sweat from my yoga mat wasn’t even dry and here I was actively considering T-boning this girl for the crime of inconveniencing me!
My rage eventually subsided, but it wasn’t until late last night. I was driving back from a show in Columbia and realized that I was no longer having a mental argument with the 20 year old in the Red VW. That I was once again Going With the Flow.
The reason I seek out these spiritual activities is because I want to feel control. It’s become even more important ever since my cells decided to go rogue. But I know that control is an illusion. As I drove up I-26 listening to Pod Save America, it dawned on me that perhaps the reason these yoga teachers insist that we do these crazy poses, these Standing Splits and Airplanes, these Three Legged Dogs transitioning into bring our knees to meet our ear lobes, is so we can have the physical experience of falling down and losing control. Maybe as I get myself back into the bind that is Eagle Pose, I can begin to accept all my limitations. The failed blogging, the cells that mutated, the basket of laundry I refuse to fold. If I can accept myself, then maybe I can accept others. Perhaps the God in me can recognize the God in the 20 year old texting in the middle of the intersection.
Ohh. That’s a hard one.