I revisited a hot yoga class taught by the same man that taught me the very first time I did hot yoga. He is the reason that I felt comfortable enough to pursue the renewed interest, and his class is what renewed the interest in the first place. I also love that my friends will meet me there so we can practice together– I wouldn’t have gone to his class ever, at all, if Lindsay hadn’t invited me the very first time. Anyway, I went back to his class, and it was just as rewarding as the first time. We did a meditation right off the bat, and I was absolutely doing great not thinking until suddenly I remembered what I had thought to myself and quickly dismissed earlier that day: “Rome was not built in a day.”
I am rigid, and I’ve fallen off the mantel, so now I have some chips. I robo-walk through life with those chips. I won’t bend, and it can be exhausting (so it must not be working for me). If I can learn to soften– if I can sometimes let myself do just a little bit less– I might find myself a more content person. “Rome wasn’t built in a day,” and “time flies when you’re having fun.” I can stop obsessing about what I’m about to do, or need to do later. I can chill the duck out (calm down, sir, this is a pond– not a rock concert), sit back, and watch the pastoral scenery (well, if all the hills were concrete and all the cows and sheep were pigeons) roll on by from my cushy compartment on the train OF LIFE.
A very interesting method of changing something that you don’t like about yourself is to start telling yourself that the change has already happened. Did you know that I am a softer person now? Ask me how the roses smell.