Day 2 #1000wordsofsummer
On coming back to the mat.
I listen to the Piano Chill playlist on Apple Music when I write. I’ve tried other “focus” playlists, but right now, that’s what’s working best for me. I talked a bit about regrets yesterday, and one of my biggest ones is that I never learned to play piano. I know I still could—I’ve known people who have picked up instruments as adults, but I don’t think I have the patience at this point, and the moments when I have the time for such a commitment, I rarely have the money. Plus I’d need a keyboard. Ok, honestly, writing all of this out makes learning how to play piano feel weirdly possible which isn’t where I was going when I sat down to write this.
My point was that I wished I had taken lessons as a kid. Some of my favorite memories are the moments I spent messing around with the piano in my studio while at residency at Hambidge—usually late at night like it was some sort of secret. I recorded myself a few times, half expecting to learn that I was a prodigy who understood what to do instantly. I didn’t, but playing felt good, and after the fifth or sixth time, I had a foggy idea of what sounded good to me. I watched a tutorial of how to play the opening to Linkin Park’s “In the End”—I imagined surprising my cohort at our open studio visit—but it turns out learning a brand new instrument is actually pretty difficult.
The last new thing that I’ve tried and stuck with consistently has been yoga. I first tried during summer workouts when I played volleyball in high school and went to a few open-level sessions during my first semester of college, but I never learned the proper foundation until last October. I went to a few beginner classes at different studios in my neighborhood before finding a perfect fit. The one I landed on happens every Sunday and I hardly ever miss, which sort of makes it feel like church. It feels good to actually know what I’m doing most of the time—that right angles are the most stable in nature, hips width can be measured by putting two fists between the arches of the feet, forward folds are best done with a gentle bend in the knees, and pigeon pose works best for me when I place a block beneath my sternum.
It’s amazing that I’ve learned so much about myself—about my body—over the last eight months. It’s the first time in my life where working out doesn’t feel even remotely like a chore. I still have heaps to learn as I realize when I’m brave enough to attend an all-level class during the week. If basics class feeds my confidence, all-level curbs my ego. The moves aren’t necessarily harder, but the explanations are sparse and things move far quicker. I usually end up looking around to see what other people are doing, but since I set up in the back of the room, I’m often surrounded by students who are more lost than I am. I look forward to the day when I flow through a regular class with the same ease that I do on Sundays. The faith that I’ll eventually get there is what keeps me coming back to the mat.