I've had a nice couple of days. Mornings have been especially lovely. This time of year, the sun shines in my eastern windows from eightish to eleven, casting patterned, morphing shadows on the floor. This is my favorite time of day to practice, when the contrast of the light and shadows is most stark. The shapes revealed through the slatted blinds shift and move, and disappear and reappear as the sun yields to the passing clouds, of which I have taken more notice these past few days.
Even against the vastness of the Texas sky, they appear to be bigger than usual, huge and billowing and dense like giant, transient worlds. With glowing white caps and dark underbellies, they seem to slow, then hurry on, as omens do.
Tonight is the first round with Matthew Sweeney. We'll be learning the restorative "moon sequence" which he alludes to in his book as a useful alternative to a traditional ashtanga practice on moon days, or when one is feeling overworked or unwell. I am hoping to learn the sequence well enough to practice it next Tuesday during the morning Mysore session, which Sweeney will be teaching despite the full moon.
Since tonight's practice will be gentle, I did Primary this morning. The sequence felt foreign. This has been a long week. I kept things moving at a pretty good clip, wasted minimal time tweaking postures and spent more time refining the breath. I felt the difference in Padmasana, which has been strangely difficult these days -- not the posture itself, but the stillness. For weeks, my eyeballs have threatened to shoot out from my head and those ten breaths have seemed an unending drudgery. But today, the eyes were still and the breath was long.
I am looking forward to spending the whole weekend with Sweeney and the local Ashtangis. Though the first session is less than two hours away, it has not quite yet sunken in how much yoga I am about to do, or with whom. In my denial, I had a late, large lunch. Wish me the best.