I know, I know...this is not the next part of the first blog. But you'll forgive me. Why? Because...well, you have terrible taste in friends. You should work on that.
I am slowly becoming a full-fledged hippie, and I just want you to be aware. I feel like I should say, "My name is CC and I haven't used soap on my face for 412 days." And then you say "hi" back to me while wondering, first of all, why don't I use soap, and second of all, um, gross, how do you wash your face?
You sure are nosey.
Anyway, I really don't wash my face with soap (I use a mixture of castor oil and olive oil). I don't wash my hair with shampoo anymore (I use baking soda and water, and sometimes apple cider vinegar and water). I don't take medication (it could be argued that I should). I buy organic food when possible (I will soon owe my soul to Trader Joe's). And the crowning jewel on top of my hippie crown, that would most likely be made of hemp and, like, some old wise hippie's dreadlocks, is that I have just started taking Dahn Yoga classes. What's that? Well, it's the most hippiest of all the crap I do. And that's saying something.
Being located in the valley of the sun, where it's hotter than hell (really, I checked, it's hotter here) and there are more people over the age of 65 than there are at every single Golden Corral Buffet across the country combined, my Dahn Yoga class is full of wonderful gray-haired ladies, and a few men. Now, there are a couple other people who aren't geriatric, but not many. I walked into the first class, and as I nodded hello to the lady (whose name I would later learn as Gayle) who was seated on a folding chair with both of her canes positioned at her feet, somehow I knew I was in the right place. I am an old soul, and unfortunately, I have the body to match. Achy? Yep. As flexible as a concrete wall? That's me! Bad back, lame hips, random pains that cannot be explained? Oh yeah.
Dahn Yoga is from Korea and it uses stretching and focused breathing on your chakras. (Not Chaka Kahn. But it would be awesome if she was in my class.) Despite the lack of R&B legends, the fact that meditation and focused stretching is the name of the game, the blue hairs love it. Me included. There's no downward facing dog and left-leaning hooting owl (that's a yoga position, right?), and it's very relaxed and peaceful. Since I'm new here, and I have a whole new life about to unfold in front of me, I've been struggling with figuring out who I'm going to become in the coming months. I get to start over, but that's not as exciting as it may seem. My little Blueberry is due at end of November, I have a man in my life who comes with all sorts of awesome stuff, including his two children and 16-pound pup. I have no job. I have no money. So, I've been searching for something...and the worst part is I haven't been able to figure out what that is up until this point. So I stumbled into a Dahn Yoga class on Saturday morning, and they were doing some weird stuff: Punching their lower abdomen (I refrained from that exercise, seeing as I don't need the Blueberry to be any more damaged than the Clawson DNA will already allow for). Saying phrases in Korean. Shaking their bodies around. I had the choice to either be an amused spectator, or join in and just let it all go. I did a little of the former, and then gave into the latter.
As class progressed, the stretching seemed mild, but I could feel it working. I could feel the blood pumping through my veins. I felt all tingly from the increased circulation. And then we got to the meditation part. I got lost completely in it, and man, I did not want to stop. But of course it had to end. After class, we hugged people next to us and then all sat in a circle and drank tea and talked about the session. Seriously, this happened. While at first I was expecting the camera crew to come out from behind the back curtain and announce that the mockumentary would be finished by Sundance next year, I realized that all these people just quieted their mind for more than an hour and they all looked happy and relaxed. Apparently I did too, because when I got home RC noticed that I looked...different. (Eloquent? Why yes, he is.) I felt more peaceful on Saturday for the entire day than I have in, well, as long as I can remember.
I went to class again on Monday. Directly afterward I went to the OB/GYN for my monthly checkup. The doctor asked me what I had done, because she said I was the most calm pregnant woman she's ever seen. Even the Blueberry's heartbeat was a little slower this time around. I told her I was trying out a new yoga class. She asked if I could sit in the lobby all day and help all her patients chill out, and then told me to keep going to class. I mean, I didn't even bitch at anyone while I was driving home...and that's something special. I love to yell at people who don't drive well. But, I just didn't care to let it bother me. See that? That's all that peace and love those damn hippies have been spouting off about all this time.
I'm going to keep going to class. I'll let you know when I change my name to WaterLilly Sunshine.
By the way, I wrote this while a 3-year-old insisted that I: 1. open the sliding glass door so she could play in the sandbox in 108-degree weather (which lasted all of 34 seconds), 2. peel an orange for her, 3. peel two more oranges for her, 4. get her a banana after a two-minute conversation in which she promised me she would eat dinner in an hour despite eating all this damn fruit, 5. dumping markers all over the floor and then coloring a balloon with said markers. So if there are spelling errors or just plain old mistakes, please forgive me. I'll edit it later...after I meditate.
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