Yoga Party
This is what I love about a yoga party: all the odd and interesting things that people do, that seem perfectly ordinary to them.
I met someone who offered to do a ceremony involving placing a harp on your heart area and playing it.
I met someone who'd spent the day in a state forest preserve, celebrating the summer solstice by drumming, creating a grid on the earth, choosing colors that represent different chakras, and singing or dancing or both.
I participated in a ceremony that was a little bit yogic, a little bit Romper Room, but very lovely. We sang a song as we stood in a circle of teachers, within a larger circle of other folk, and accompanied the song by waving our hands about in front of our face (to signify the word "beauty") or placing our hands as though we were holding a small soccer ball and then turning the imaginary soccer ball to signify beauty above and below.
I spent much of the evening telling people about my two favorite facts from the Yarn Harlot's talk: 1) that knitters have a lower incidence of dementia than the average population and 2) that knitters are beat out only by Buddhist monks in the amount of time spent in theta brain waves. Toward the end of the evening, I sat down with my husband and a friend/teacher to listen to the band, and Joyce and I decided that in addition to what we are calling our yoga soirees - three days in the fall when we've invited teachers to come and socialize and gab - that we want to have Knitting Club. We don't even care if anyone but us comes. We just like saying Knitting Club.
And my husband wore his first pair of hand knitted socks, and they were admired.
Getting up this morning, though, I realized that I am getting Old. Even though I was home by midnight, and even though I didn't drink much at all, I was very, very tired. It's a good thing that I don't do this very often; I could not keep up the pace.
I did notice this morning, as I climbed the two flights of stairs up to the yoga center, that all of my business cards were gone from the table where we keeps cards and flyers. Either I'm in high demand, or someone decided to erase my presence.
I met someone who offered to do a ceremony involving placing a harp on your heart area and playing it.
I met someone who'd spent the day in a state forest preserve, celebrating the summer solstice by drumming, creating a grid on the earth, choosing colors that represent different chakras, and singing or dancing or both.
I participated in a ceremony that was a little bit yogic, a little bit Romper Room, but very lovely. We sang a song as we stood in a circle of teachers, within a larger circle of other folk, and accompanied the song by waving our hands about in front of our face (to signify the word "beauty") or placing our hands as though we were holding a small soccer ball and then turning the imaginary soccer ball to signify beauty above and below.
I spent much of the evening telling people about my two favorite facts from the Yarn Harlot's talk: 1) that knitters have a lower incidence of dementia than the average population and 2) that knitters are beat out only by Buddhist monks in the amount of time spent in theta brain waves. Toward the end of the evening, I sat down with my husband and a friend/teacher to listen to the band, and Joyce and I decided that in addition to what we are calling our yoga soirees - three days in the fall when we've invited teachers to come and socialize and gab - that we want to have Knitting Club. We don't even care if anyone but us comes. We just like saying Knitting Club.
And my husband wore his first pair of hand knitted socks, and they were admired.
Getting up this morning, though, I realized that I am getting Old. Even though I was home by midnight, and even though I didn't drink much at all, I was very, very tired. It's a good thing that I don't do this very often; I could not keep up the pace.
I did notice this morning, as I climbed the two flights of stairs up to the yoga center, that all of my business cards were gone from the table where we keeps cards and flyers. Either I'm in high demand, or someone decided to erase my presence.
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