|Ocean Swell I by Deborah Dryden|
I am practicing all of second plus the first several advanced postures. Second series is a joy, but right around Chakorasana ensue the grunting and sighs. The work is hard. The practice is becoming larger, and it will grow much larger still before it snaps back on itself and I am left to start again.
Still, it's good practice for everything else. Things are on the rise. This fall I will finish my dual degree. By January, I will have completed my 500-hour training. I sense big things lurking in the distance. If I squint my eyes, I can just about make out their shapes. But I might get crow's feet if I squint too hard. With my birthday fast approaching, I see my actual age and my felt age gradually becoming one. As a child and into early adulthood, I behaved as a person much older than I was. As young as twelve years old, I was routinely mistaken for an adult. I used to have a sort of pride attached to my deceptively old persona. Now, of course, I am less thrilled when others misjudge my years. I feel younger and more free than I did when I was young, but as a well-meaning friend recently said, "You're 28 going on 50."
Damn. It's true.
Meanwhile, my siblings are getting married and having babies. It seems like every time I go up north to visit, there is one more smiling spouse or one more little pair of shining eyes. The family is becoming larger, and it will grow much larger still. This is a good thing, or not a bad thing. But I am a far-off satellite in Texas, only occasionally pulled to home. The faster the family grows, the fewer are the members of my own family that I know. This is strange and alienating. Like a new posture. You mean, now I have to put my leg behind my head and stand up? Who is this new person? How does this work?
And this is just the beginning. The postures keep coming. The family keeps growing. Certificates are piling up. The question is what do I do with this stuff? With all these new additions, how do I make it work?