Day 19

These classes take something I think I know… say walking... then show me perhaps I don’t know it all. Perhaps I haven’t been paying attention. Perhaps I’ve been on autopilot.

Today’s teacher is in matching black shorts, black T-shirt, and black socks. She could be a ballerina, but at the moment she’s doing very un-ballerina-like things.

“French kiss the ground with your feet.”

My feet roll about not so gracefully. My toes crack. I get a cramp in the arch of my left foot. If this is a kiss, it’s the super awkward kind.

“Walk with the outside of your feet.”

We’re pigeons in a park. We peck for food. We criss-cross each other’s paths. We avoid each other's droppings. Hold on... Do pigeons avoid each other’s own droppings?

Never mind.

Just go with it.

“Feel that your feet are in sand.”

I conjure up a beach.

It’s not hard, the sea is only a few steps from the studio. I knead the sand beneath my feet and toes. The effort travels all the way up my calves and thighs into my pelvis.

Whoa.

Walking can be a full-body exercise.

“Turn up your listening.”

I’ve been numb.

I’ve been so focused on the destination that I’m missing out on the journey.

This is not the way I want to move through life.

It’s time to take this X-wing off auto-pilot.