I don’t know what I was thinking. Hmm. I guess I was thinking that I had a few free hours, so why not sketch out a menu for the week and stock up with ingredients at the grocery store? Off I went – the Sunday afternoon of Labor Day weekend – and as soon as I walked in the door I realized my mistake.
What a zoo.
I tried to practice my yoga breaths as carts jammed the aisles and children blocked my path as they played handheld video games in front of the eggs while their parents taste-tested the artichoke dip. I tried to remember I had just come from church and I should be patient and kind and gentle and not cave into my mounting frustration. Breathe. Breathe. BREATHE!
I do not do well in crowds.
The trick to grocery shopping (at least the one I go to in my town) is to hit the store early Monday morning. It’s empty and open and I can take my time reviewing my list and making sure I have everything I need for the week. When I had an office job with less flexible hours, I’d go to the store late at night. I’d have to step around boxes of fresh shipments, but it was better than being piled in an enclosed space with too many people. My goal is to get away from stores almost entirely – next season I’m signing up for a CSA subscription. And I’m continuing to explore year-round farmers’ markets (for some reason crowds don’t bother me as much when I’m outside) and buying local food through other direct methods. But I’m in transition, so for awhile I’ll be heading to the store at least once a week. On Monday mornings.
A majority of people usually think that men typically do not care much about their appearances. This kind of thinking is actually very untrue, especially when it comes to the subject of androgenetic alopecia, or otherwise known as male-pattern baldness. Men who are potentially going to suffer from this kind of condition (due to heredity) or those who are already going through a great deal of embarrassment and other negative emotions regarding baldness typically get to learn about one of its most well-known treatments, and that is, propecia generic.
Why is it called male-pattern baldness?
Male-pattern baldness is called like that simply because the balding process sort of follows a typical set pattern. The initial stage of classic male-pattern baldness is typically a disappearing hairline, and then it is followed by the thinning and lessening of the hair near the temples and on the top of the head. By the time these two balding areas meet in the center, it creates an illusion of a u-shaped hair surrounding the sides and the back of the head. Even if this process of balding is really slow in most men suffering from it, unfortunately, they will turn out to be completely bald in the long run. Read more…
I have yoga homework.
It’s supposed to help me relax.
The good news about Bound Angle pose is and Reclining Bound Angle pose is that I can do them anywhere – watching TV, before bed at night, as an afternoon break in my home office.
I told her how I’ve tried to establish a home practice in the past before and wound up intimidated and overwhelmed.
“Sometimes just showing up on your mat at home and pretending to practice is a practice,” she said.
Sounds like a good place to start.
On my way to yoga class, I’m not sure which way to go. The road splits, and my instinct says left but Mapquest says right. I ignore my gut and follow the computer’s instructions.
Turing around in the greater Washington DC area is nearly impossible. One road leads to a twisted mass of other roads and within 10 minutes I’ve crossed three borders, hitting Maryland, Washington DC, and Virginia. There are cars everywhere. Jammed along the freeway. Weaving in front of me as they merge. And my mind races with them.
In my head I’m caught up in the emotional turmoil of living in a new city. I want to move back to our original home in California where I know the streets like the back of my hand and can walk to yoga class. The clock is inching forward. By the time I figure out where I am it’s too late. I’ve missed the class.
I’m waiting at a stop sign when a woman in a minivan bumps the rear of my car.
“Argh!” I yell (okay technically I yell a cuss word, but this is a G-rated blog).
As I pull over into a parking lot my instinct says stop and breathe. This time I listen. Just because I’m not in yoga class doesn’t mean I can’t practice yoga. I have my body, mind, and soul right here in the car with me — I don’t need a mat, a blanket, or the wood floor of a studio.
In inhale deeply and lengthen my spine. I meditate on my breath and seek inner stillness. By the time I step out of the car I feel a hundred times better. The woman in the minivan is apologetic and wants to make sure I’m okay and my car’s okay.
There is only a small scrape on the back bumper.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “This car is 10 years old.”
We wave goodbye to each other and drive our separate ways. On the way home I continue to practice my breathing. My blue mat is still rolled up on the passenger’s seat. And the roads are still packed with cars and noisy construction and confusing twisting turns. But inside, I’m slowly finding silence.