Today I went to a yoga class with my housemate. I went to yoga classes pretty regularly with my sister for a year... about three years ago. Maybe four years ago. I keep meaning to go to a class but I never get around to it, so when my housemate asked if I wanted to join her, I jumped at the chance.
A few hours later I found myself in downward dog, one hand on the ground and the other mopping my face in a futile attempt not to drip all over my borrowed mat. The class had begun with some deep breathing and chanting, and I had wondered if this was a meditation class, but soon enough we were moving through vinyasas and warrior poses, breathing up into downward dog and moving onto something else with each exhale. I had forgotten how bad I was at downward dog when I first took a yoga class, and how weak my upper body had been (which is where it is now). I had forgotten that my legs hated warrior 3 pose, until my thigh started to cramp in a vaguely familiar way. I had forgotten how much I enjoy yoga. I had forgotten how enjoyable it is to forget about the ever-present mental to-do list and just focus on the position of your left foot and its connection to the ground, the positioning of your hips, or the curve of your spine.
Class ended with the traditional nap (dead man's pose, or whatever the official name is) and Namaste. I really enjoyed the class, it was relaxing, awakening, and draining all at once. I'd like to go back. In a few days, though, not tomorrow. Tomorrow my shoulders are going to suffer the wrath of a hundred downward dogs.
Clearly, going to a yoga class counts as a point for my Happiness Project :)
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