I returned to yoga last year with a feverish intensity. Within two months I’d started a home practice just for the pleasure of it, and it seems there’s no looking back. I was ripe for it.
After Christmas, my lovely man began classes in order to help his low back and hips. He will not miss a Thursday night Yin Yoga class now. (If you’d told me that three years ago, I’d have laughed in your face. So would he.)
Then my sister Tory started, just to balance out her running and cycling. She’s got the fever, no question. She just took a “floating class,” which has something to do with transitions between poses. That’s way over my head.
My daughter’s been doing yoga classes at university this year, and is looking at a Master’s thesis involving yoga. I’m not kidding.
And this morning, my niece, Gabriella, sent a note telling me she enjoys the blog (how lovely is that!). Gabriella began classes shortly after Tory, and loves it as much as the rest of us do. She’s just landed a job at her yoga studio in Toronto. One of the stipulations is that she has to do either Mysore or classes six days a week. Incredible! I asked her how it’s going, and she’s sore, and head over heels.
It’s like a virus, isn’t it? Like something bursting into bloom. It makes me wonder how there can be anyone left at this point. How long will it be before we’ve got them all–our parents, our kids, our friends, our coworkers, the guy at the hot dog stand–in our classes? Practicing Crow at home. Hanging out on Yogajournal.com. Working on new moves at lunch.
Has yoga gone viral around you? Were you infected by someone close? Are you still contagious?
Thanks to yoga for spreading the healthiest virus ever, and thanks to you and all the rest of the little yoga microbes, for the conversation,