I finally finished my very last lesson of the "Moving Toward Balance: 8 weeks of Yoga with Rodney Yee". It was refreshing, (first half of) the meditation practice was to take a walk. Even though I walk all the time I used it as an excuse to go take another one. I wondered whether I should let the dogs out to go walking with me -- I usually spend most of my time being paranoid that I will hear the screeching of wheels as a car careens into one of my dogs, so I'm constantly hyperaware of where they are.
As is usually the case, I gave in to my reservations and let them out with me. My little one, Sid, who usually walks with me came down a couple of houses with me and then disappeared, and Mac the Lab as usual hung out near the house. So for most of my walk I was alone, which allowed me to think about the lesson -- walking with my chest open and my arms and legs swinging freely. I love the "listening" that yoga requests me to do to my body. As a software engineer, my body is usually the last thing on my mind, which is why I think that after 30 years of this abuse my body has taken such a downward spiral.
My mastectomies and radiation treatments have wreaked havoc with my upper chest area, from scar tissue damage around my heart, lungs, and arms right up through my neck where my port-a-cath was inserted. So I find that my shoulder and upper arm really work hard when my chest is open. Every couple of seconds I need to check in with them and make sure that they are moved down, and not tensed up as I am naturally inclined to do. I liked the concept of timing my breathing to my steps, because it did add a breath-awareness to my walking, which converted my focus from outward and daydreaming to inward and attentive.
I walked for about 20 minutes. My street is in a very dark rural neighborhood. With all of the autumn leaves covering the street and lawns, the world seems abounding with clutter, and with my flashlight and listening for the clink clink of Sid's tags, I still could not see where he was or hear him. When I got back to the house, I walked up the driveway and there were Mac and Sid, sitting on the back lawn by the deck stairs, commisserating and watching me. "'Bout time you got back to let us in!".
Two years ago, John and I went on a meditation retreat for Thanksgiving. Even though I was very sick during the retreat and spent most of my time walking the halls trying to get through the weekend, I loved the sense of thankfulness and love that I felt. I'm hoping that we can do a similar retreat this Thanksgiving-- maybe a yoga retreat this time.
