I’m too selfish with yoga. Or why would I post a photo of Auburn’s mascot?
I had an active imagination as a girl.
That’s code for . . .
I used to lie every now and then, like at show-and-tell. Because what I did in my mind over the weekend was a lot more interesting than sharing what I watched Johnny Quest do on Saturday mornings.
So this lying thing comes naturally. If no one gets hurt. And I believe it in my heart.
Okay. That’s stupid.
I’m very content with life right now so I don’t feel the need to lie — even about age. But if I’m tagged by another blogger, why not rise to the challenge?
What was the falsehood in my last post on why I haven’t been blogging?
True. I have been writing on my WIP. I figure it takes me 90 minutes to write 500 words. Three hours for 1000. I hate that there is only so much creative time and energy the good Lord provides me with every 24 hours. It still is my goal to post at least once a week — and set aside time to read other bloggers. But I’ve fallen short of late. I do miss the community of blogging and I’ll be back.
Between the other two, becoming a yoga instructor or falconer — seems most folks think I’m on the road to certifiable yoga.
Well.
Nope.
Not that I am not enjoying the flush of new love with yoga. I just have no interest in leading anybody anywhere.
I check my responsibilities at the door. Lie on my mat and leave the driving to Mary or Shawn or Grace — or Elise. I’ll get to your class someday.
Anyone. But me.
Yesterday, during savasana after Mary’s intense Vinyasa class, I fell asleep. I can’t do that if I’m making sure everyone else relaxes. Or massaging their temples like Shawn, or singing like Grace.
I want to exert and check out mentally. Yeah, I know. Concentrate on my breath, keep my heart higher than my hips, try not to fall on my neighbor during anything . . . but
A girl’s got to know her limitations.
I would not be a good caring yoga facilitator.
I’m selfish with my yoga.
On the other hand, the thought of spending hours on end with a hawk, a dead rodent and traipsing in the woods excites me.
A girl’s got to know her limitations. I know.
The eagle has always been my favorite animal on those stupid personality quizzes, except age 14 — 18 when I went through a dolphin is my favorite animal phase.
I know Auburn’s mascot is a Golden Eagle. War Eagle VII is named Nova. There is no reason on God’s green SEC turf that I would know that (or post a photo on my blog) except that I love, love birds of prey. And he’s the George Clooney of birds of prey. Gorgeous.
photo credit War Eagle VI. May he RIP.
Though a long and deeply committed process, the more I read about falconry — I think it’s possible.
And a dream of mine. Somewhere out in the fields of Morgan County, might be a Redtail Hawk pining for a mate (figuratively speaking) for a season of our lives.
When I want to space out while online this is one of my favorite sights. Stalking an osprey’s nest in Montana.
So that’s it. Thanks to Julia for tagging me and bravo to Kenya Johnson for playing along when I hit the ball in her court. Check out Kenya’s blog and see if you can catch her in a falsehood.
What do you think? Falconry or no?
