Aaaaaaaah!

I could write about Hillary Clinton tearing up on the campaign trail, about New Jersey considering issuing an apology for slavery, about the Roger Clemens controversy, about the canceling of the Golden Globes, but I don't want to kill my buzz. Tonight I took part in my employer's weekly yoga class.

Now, I have avoided this class for more than a year. Something about folding into an inelegant downward dog, in a tank top, next to the HR manager, made me a little uncomfortable. But what I was reminded of this evening is that while yogis are rejuvenating their minds and spirits, they aren't looking at fellow practitioners' exercise attire or back fat or wobbly arms in plank pose.

So, I eased my body into positions it hasn't known for almost a year. I raised my arms energetically toward the sky for sun salutations. I struck strong triangle poses. I relaxed deep into corpse pose--probably my favorite part of yoga class, when you lie inert, pillow over your eyes, breathing deeply and savoring the fruits of your practice. It all felt absolutely delicious.

So, pardon me for an evening if I can't get riled up about much of anything. I'll be back to my old self in the morning...maybe.

Namaste.