Yesterday's class was yin yoga. It's hard, don't get me wrong, but it's more passive, and a perfect way to re-enter a practice after taking time off.
Today's class was intermediate yoga. I would call myself a beginner. Not a rank beginner, but a beginner nonetheless. So I was nervous.
I KICKED THAT CLASS'S ASS.
Full contact, competitive yoga, me against myself. I WON.
I am a BADASS.
I felt strong. I felt flexible. I felt trust.
It was like realizing the comfort of a place that you didn't know was comfortable, only this time I carry it around with me, wrapped around my bones, tangled up in DNA. There are very few times I feel totally relaxed in my physical self; usually I am faking it, or I am readjusting myself when no one is looking.
Today on the mat I felt power. I did push ups. Correctly. Lots and lots of them (only in yoga they are called Chaturanga Dandasana which is Hindi for "You've got to be fucking kidding me.").
I twisted myself around in this, and I almost looked exactly like this.
I lost track of time. And that never happens.
Glad to be back home.
(Image by dynamosquito via Flickr)