So I've been going to yoga at Casa de Luz, a small macrobiotic "campus" which includes a restaurant, rooms, a playground, etc. The first time I ate there I was a bit creeped out by the aliens who like to eat there. As much as I poke fun at it for being new-agey and freakishly healthy.. well, I shouldn't.. too much. It's pretty great. Today was only my 2nd time at yoga (which I had never done before last Friday) and I can see why it's so appealing. Who isn't up for unharnessing his/her inner energy and learning how to breathe properly? And the bamboo-floored room in which it is held exudes such peacefulness and warmth that I would pay rent to live there next year. I know that if I bought into the spiritual part of the exercises, then I would be experiencing yoga in its full effect. However, I don't quite believe in tromping elephants and such and am relegated to channeling imaginary energy and half-smiling at the Warrior Pose, which shouts, "Glory to God!" (A terrible mood had been hanging over me all day, causing me to snap at my kindergarteners, spend too much money at Mr. Natural's, and feel tired about the upcoming holiday.) So understandably, I felt only half better afterwards. What? I'm anxious about life, and nobody can fix that.
And now, after trying on funky sweaters I hadn't worn all year and modeling them for my roommate, I am going to finish packing.
He will take you, if you run, he will chase you, because he is the