So, I've started yoga-ing again.  (I know that's not a word, but it should be.)  Yoga has always been a good idea for this girl with scoliosis and tight hamstrings; however, I could never quite manage to "look like the picture."  Not to mention, you're supposed to focus on your breath, and I couldn't even breathe at all in some of the poses, which just kind of hurt my ego (and sometimes my lower back), and so I just didn't do it.  Simple logic.

However, I'm older, somedays wiser, and getting progressively less flexible, and I think spending a few minutes in a semi-failed attempt at a sun salutation will be more beneficial to me in the long run than I've cared to admit.  My ego will probably survive it as well, and so I go on, contorting as ungracefully as is imaginable, and trying not to sound like I'm in respiratory distress.

This growing inflexibility, I'm being forced to admit, has a fraternal twin that lives in my brain. (Weird sentence.)  As I (ahem) mature, the habits of my youth--structure, consistency, carefulness--are starting to look more like rigidity, stubbornness, and missed opportunity.   There's a lot that throws me for a loop, a lot of no-we-can't-we-didn't-plan-for-it, a lot of I-wouldn't-even-know-how-to-deviate-off-course-if-I-wanted-to.  A limited range of motion, mentally, that, thankfully, is becoming a tough thing to live with. 

So, in honor of...life?, I've been trying to make a conscious attempt to increase my range of motion, both literally and figuratively.  Physically, with the yoga; mentally, with the word "yes."  It feels good.

Here are a couple of shots from yesterday's "yes;"  we met Jean and the babies for a quick walk out at Clear Creek.  We've lived here for...7-going-on-8 years, and I've never walked the trail.  It's a nice, easy path; the weather was gorgeous; kids were happy. 

Life is good.

Everybody ready?

There seems to be some mutual admiration here.



Happy Thursday!