Missing things

Practice has been a struggle, the thing in my lower back/pelvis is driving me nuts. Most days I’ve only managed primary and a dodgy Salabhasana, what follows became impossible even with Rumalaya and Alex the massage therapists magic fingers and thumbs. It’s deeply frustrating especially with the warm humid mornings that have finally arrived which usually makes my body looser and bendier, Louise said once Easter to October is when practice expands and can be worked on, as opposed to the cold winter months, when it’s about maintaining what you have.

I’m missing being able to do the part of my practice that gives me the satisfaction, the intermediate backbends and the closing dropbacks. The thought of just Primary only doesn’t give me the mojo to crawl out from under the duvet, sleep or primary? If it wasn’t for the zoom shala sleep would win more often, but it’s felt like going through the motions.

At breakfast at the local shala the other day C , who is suffering badly with long covid and only joins us occasionally noted how many things in the town had changed while she’s been stuck at home, but also how the world and the people continue on with their lives and not noticed her absence. We got chatting about who would miss us after we tic Toc into the 6ft hole and the headstone is placed, the world would carry on, maybe her kids would miss her. It got me thinking if I croaked at home how long would it take for anyone to even notice, how many unanswered what’s app messages would it take before anyone realised something was amiss, I get so little post these days the postman wouldn’t notice the old fashioned pile of post behind the door. I don’t have a huge circle of friends and virtually no family.

So I came to the conclusion that in the short term just one person would mourn my absence, Greml my little black cat asking who is in charge of the Dreamies now.