Winter is coming.
That may not be the most terrifying thing, given we’re in Los Angeles — and winter means lows in the 40s at worst — but still, this morning’s practice at home was a bit frio.
And, I’ll admit, everything ached. I think we can mark Nov. 11, 2012 as the Day. I. Got. Old.
My joints hurt. My already stiff body felt an added degree of stiffness. There was resistance everywhere.
Is this why, I wondered at one point, the senior Western teachers talk so much about Ashtanga and aging? I suspect so.
I felt old. I felt creaky.
So far, I’m taking this self-imposed news fairly well. I went surfing, again. (My run of sneaky good surf ended, though. All good things come to end.) We got things done during a busy, but productive weekend.
But it is hard not to contemplate just how different the whole practice felt this morning. The ache and resistance were deeper, if that makes sense. Or, perhaps another way to put it: It felt like a whole layer of stickiness had been slathered over me.
I felt like how people always talk about it. And, you know, some cliches are cliches because they’re true.
It could be a simple one-time thing, I suppose. But even so, it is hard not to think it is a sign of things to come.
Winter is coming, in the literal and figurative sense.
It’s something else to toss into the mix. Another part of the path or journey. A new fork in that road. A challenge, an obstacle, a lesson.
Strangely, though, to a certain extent there’s a weird exhilaration. If I’m right in my reaction, it suggests I’m aware enough to notice this difference, to feel a morning’s change. And that’s a sign that the yoga is working. (Maybe, anyway. I’m not quite willing to be that optimistic or delusional.) Perhaps this awareness will help illuminate other changes.
First things first, though. Perhaps a nice space heater will prove a temporary fountain of youth.
Posted by Steve