Right Foot Red

Years ago I was quite the athletic little kid but once my priorities were set on music and art, it was like I took all my baseball cards to make a stack of notebooks from 100% recycled materials. Ken Griffey's face is still faintly visible in the fibers of the page I used to pen 'Light Enough'.

It's liberating to move your muscles. Especially the parts of your body and brain you haven't put to good use in a while. Couple weeks ago at home in NY, my right arm was aching in the wake of shaking hands with my first tennis match in roughly six years. Not only were my eyes and nostrils getting reacquainted with the landscape around my high school tennis court, my joints were setting off familiar sighs, remembering the agility and power they've gone so long without. Muscles and memories are not so different. What starts as tiny bits and pieces can quickly turn to, "oh yeah - this is what it's like!" No matter how many years go by, it's good to know I always have an older brother who'll politely obliterate me in any head-to-head contest.

Last night was my very first experience with yoga. I silently walked my bare feet into the room, imagining that the other five visitors setting up their mats were already masters of this practice. Once the lesson had begun, I quickly jettisoned any insecurities - partly out of accepting the As Is-ness of any given moment, but mostly due to the immense focus this art demands. There's really no way to drift elsewhere in your mind when your body and spirit are being guided for an hour and a half through the most intense game of twister you've ever played. Especially when every person around you is actually really good at it. The subtle shift from "I don't know what I'm doing" to "I'm here to learn" suddenly turns insecurity to inspiration. The practice itself was incredibly satisfying and mentally freeing. It's always an awesome thing to feel your body's gratitude for the attention it's been given. I have a long way to go before I perfect my Warrior II or Utthita Parsvakonasana. But it's just like writing these entries - the best choice is to simply begin. Two years down the road, you pat yourself on the back knowing, "Damn, I got good at this!"



I'm excited for new practices, new freedom. I'm thankful for the chance to connect with energy that resonates strongest with me, and I'm lighter for releasing anything else. Being consciously active, especially in times of change, empowers me to take the reins and adapt perfectly to whatever comes next. As my brother voiced to thousands in his valedictory speech, "Refuse to be passive!" You may pull a muscle and feel sore in the morning, but that's only Life's way of acknowledging your awesome choice to take action. It's saying, "Get ready for great things."

...And stretch next time.
R.