Tag Archives: yoga class

Walking to the Y…

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Y?  Because I like to.  I live a mile away from the YMCA.  I joined six years ago when I first came to Winston-Salem, because I had to have something to do while waiting.  I was waiting for travel documents to come for my brother and sister-in-law, so they could go to China to get their youngest little girl.  I was waiting to figure out my next steps after having left my husband of thirty-three years.  I was waiting for the marriage to be legally over, and waiting to see who I was and who I could become.

I love my Y.  I lift weights.  I ride a stationary bike.  I take Gentle Yoga classes several times a week, and I’ve met some great people.  I still find refuge in my Yoga class, though I don’t go as regularly as I did in the early days.  My life has gotten happily busier!  Nowadays, I walk.  I used to walk with a friend who lived around the corner, but she moved away, so now I just walk by myself.

I do some of my best blog writing when I walk.  Often, I will be inspired with a topic, and this past week was no exception.  This post is the result. 

Walking is scenic.  It is rhythmic, and it is meditative.  It takes one whole rosary to get to the front steps, and coming home, I usually work out a blog post in my head.  Often, I remember it, and write and post.  Many times, I don’t remember what I’d thought to write, only to have it pop up later.

It’s a gift to be able to live in such a beautiful and pedestrian-friendly place.  It’s a gift to exercise my body and my mind.  It’s a gift to be among friendly, kind, funny faces who greet me with welcoming  words when I’ve missed a few classes.  Walking to the Y is one of my gratitudes, often.  Walking to the Y has been a huge part of who I am and who I have become.  Who could ask for more?  Prayers and fitness, and working out in more ways than one.   It doesn’t get any better than this.  Look at the photo.  Get it?IMG_2651.JPG

It’s Back to School Time…

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When I was a kid in the Midwest, school started the day after Labor Day. As a teacher in Arizona, we began school the beginning of August. It was so hot there, the kids might as well have been in the AC, though the teachers would have preferred vacationing in Alaska. Here in the foothills of North Carolina, today was the first day of school.

Yesterday, the kids next door played outside until dark, having their last hurrah. Little Al, who is beginning the first grade, admitted he was excited and a little nervous. I had my teacher-back-to-school nightmare last night, where the kids were running wild, and wouldn’t listen to me. It was the first time I’d had that dream in a couple of years, but this morning I was filled with a quiet peacefulness. The weather was crisp. Our temperature was in the high 60’s at 6 AM. The dogwood leaves already have a reddish tint, and the willows have turned yellow, and are shedding leaves.

I was joyful at yoga class today, ate lunch on my deck, and read until I got sleepy at noon. I thought about those kids all day long, and how the teachers had prepared for their start. Though the back-to-school wasn’t mine, apparently, a teacher never really loses the feeling of this time being a new beginning. I was just beginning other things.