Three Months in SLO
This morning I woke with the intention of attending a Hatha Yoga class with one of my favorite teachers here in SLO, Laura Rogers. Normally during the week, Laura's classes start at the top of the hour. Because I work from home (and I use the term "work" loosely since I've been lax in my writing and Arbonne business the last couple weeks), I never know what day of the week it is. So into Smiling Dog Yoga I strolled at 9:50 a.m. The girl at the front desk greeted me (by my name! Meaning: They're getting to know me at Smiling Dog! Meaning: I'm going often enough to be known!). I noticed the door to the studio was closed with the sign informing that a class was in session. All the cubbies were filled with yogis' personal belongings. And then I remembered it was Sunday, and I was actually ten minutes late for Laura's class.
While I contemplated going home, skipping yoga today, and spend another day sitting on my butt watching TV, the girl at the desk (I guess I should learn her name since she knows mine) convinced me to try Vinyasa 1 with Leslie St. John, another favorite yoga teacher. I've taken Leslie's Restoration Yoga class before and loved it. But I wasn't sure if I was ready for Vinyasa. It's similar to Power Yoga, which was popular in the 90s and the 00s, and which I used to practice on a semi-regular basis. But it had been so long, and I wasn't sure my body was strong enough.
But they talked me into it, and signed me up for the 11 a.m. class. I spent the next hour strolling around the neighborhood, stopping in House of Bread and buying one of their fresh cinnamon rolls and a coffee. I was concerned with the intake of sugar and calories and how it was going to affect my complexion. But I still savored each gooey piece dipped in coffee without guilt.
Vinyasa is more active than Hatha. For the past few months I've been enjoying the relaxing pace of Hatha and was fine with not breaking a sweat. But after four years of Hip Hop dance classes in Chicago (miss you, Viola!), I knew I needed to step up my yoga game. As I went through each juicy pose and felt my muscles strengthening, cinnamon roll calories burning, and negative energy releasing, I realized how much at home I was feeling here in California.
California is like its own little island. That's what my health insurance broker told me when I asked her if she thought a Trump presidency was going to lead to significant changes to the ACA.
Since the election I've felt disillusioned with everything going on in the country. It was affecting me in negative ways, and the toxicity was becoming an issue in my personal life. But the broker's statement gave me hope; it felt like someone wrapped a blanket around me and said everything was going to be okay. Maybe I'm being naive. Maybe I'm overreacting. But I'm going to respect these feelings I'm having while I take each step forward into my future as a California resident.
I'm going to wash all the Vinyasa sweat off me now. Then I'll clean the apartment, open the front door and set up the pet gate so Nikkie can roam around in the fresh air and sunshine. Maybe I'll read a little, listen to something new on Spotify, and even make some progress on the outline of my latest novel. And I'll appreciate the life I'm living as a Californian on our own little island.