Oh so stretchy me...

... or reasons why i love yoga

Contrary to the implication in the title of this post, it is not because I am oh so very stretchy. I am nothing of the sort. Neither am I bendy. Shame when I'm trying to get into trichonasane. [The triangle pose, which I have most likely spelled incorrectly. I certainly attempt to 'do' it incorrectly even though it is a simple pose for most yoga novices.]

No... it is not my unbelievable Olympic-gymnast-like ability to be bendy like a pretzel. I cannot bend in a forwards direction. I cannot touch my toes, despite four years of yoga [or, admittedly, three years then a one year gap and then a class last week and tonight.]

So erm... no. It is the space, in my mind and my day. And the way that Shimon says 'foc-oos' when he's trying to get us to pay attention. And that feeling of letting go when you're been in a pose for a little while and your muscles just know that they can stretch a little further... so you breathe and the muscles relax and then all of a sudden an uncomfortable pose just becomes... comfy. In a very uncomfortable way. You know what I mean.

So now I am in a happy-post-yoga haze on my living room floor, trying to decide between a foul-mouthed chef [Gordon Ramsey] or a the British Ambassador to Washington [a new political-thriller thingy on the ABC]. No high culture for me tonight... but tomorrow night I'm off the the opera so it all balances itself out. :) OK, who am I kidding... they're going to talk about racism/terrorism and use the phrase 'in the West Wing'... so political thriller it is. And I have some leftover Easter chocolate too.

Lovely.