I'm not really better, but I decided that I was well enough to go to Hip Hop Yoga tonight. (Don't tell my mom. Be cool. Don't tell on me.) I had a yoga friend date with Z at Back Bay Yoga, which is the best kind of friend date, and I thought maybe sweating the cold out would help. Goldie kept the room dark and heated and kept us flowing and moving and twisting and reaching. And it worked for me in so many ways.
In the bigger sense of things, as I do more yoga, it feels better and better for me. Twenty minutes into class, my muscles let go. They just let go. I stopped feeling my joints. Everything felt like butter. Smooth and easy. And in a loud and sweaty class, what mattered was the movement and the motion and the music. That's all there was. The sun set, the windows fogged up, the music kept bumping, and we flowed.
We moved through Sun A series and, as we reached up and stood up, Goldie said something resonant. I don't remember it exactly. It was something like: "Reach up with your hands for something good. Visualize it."
We had a split second to visualize. But I think maybe that's all the time I needed. Because what came to me instinctively is the thought that I want my own version of happiness. I don't want anyone else's. I want mine. And I know what mine looks like and I know that I'm living it everyday. It's here. It's happening. Smooth and easy.
So maybe I'll take my time and rest up and get over this cold. I'll keep on running and keep on doing yoga, and I'll enjoy the hell out of Christmas (because it truly is the most magical time of the year) and enjoy the hell out of New Year's in Boston (because this city is awesomely beautiful in the frosty cold). And when 2014 rolls around.. well hell. I have no doubt that it will be exceptional. How can it not be?
I got that off-black Cadillac, midnight drive
Got that gas pedal, leaning back, taking my time
I’m rolling that roof off, letting in sky
I shine, the city never looked so bright