Yesterday, was a day of failure. I spilled lemonade, dyed dingy white towels a deep fuschia instead of a deep red, failed to finish a book review, took darling pictures of the boy without a CF card, and only made it through thirty minutes of yoga because I have the attention span of a gnat. Yesterday sucked.
Then, I visited the blog and read In-law’s funny post and Little’s plaintive post, and smiled. We’re doing this. So what if every ant in New Mexico now calls my kitchen home, my bathroom looks like a bordello, I find it impossible to pen 400 more words, and I never master crow pose? We’re blogging together.
And, while yesterday was a failure, and I totally logged into facebook this morning, the first week of the thirty day challenge was not a complete blow out.
Day 1: Kiss the Edge of Challenge. I fell out of crow pose. Twice.
Day 2″ Transforming Fear. In every pose, I thought about facebook. Every pose.
Day 3: Core Consciousness. Yoga has a strange vocabulary: surrender, assimilation, lock.
Day 4: Secrets of Yoga. I have never fully considered my armpits until told to “loop your armpits back.”
Day 5: Setting an Intention. My intention — focus.
Day 6: Power and Concentration. I failed to concentrate and only made it through the first thirty minutes.
Day 7: Find Roots and Establish Balance. Favorite quote: “Notice how your mind is not helpful at all.” I have been noticing this for much of my life.
Day 8: Totally skipped.
Day 9: Thirty minutes of Power and Concentration. Obviously, I do not have power and concentration.
Day 10: Balancing for Core Stability and Will. The instructor says “Find ease through your efforts.” This has become my new mantra.
On day one, I have to stop my fingers from typing in the address, and I replace one addiction for another by rediscovering blogs I haven’t read in years like Here be Hippogriffs and Woulda Shoulda. By day two, I feel righteous. Facebook? Who needs facebook? Day three, four, and five are much of the same, but on Sunday, I have a breakdown. Little tempts me with a picture of the world’s most gorgeous baby. I cave. Today, I get up, pour coffee and type in the cursed URL. There are beautiful pictures of my cousin, so I justify it. I needed to tell my cousin she was beautiful. That’s what cousins do.
This week, I’ll do better. I’ll think transformative thoughts during yoga instead of snide ones. I’ll train my fingers to work, instead of type in the evil URL. This week, I’ll become an industrious human being.