Sun sets over the beach last night at Hualalai
King Pigeon Pose that I hope to be mastering soon
.So… I’ve been to yoga class, in some form or other, every day since we arrived in Hawaii and a few things have occurred to me while my mind was meant to be clear. Truth be told, I never think more than when I’m supposed to be thought-free, but that’s another post isn’t it? At home I practice yoga in a room devoid of mirrors. That’s a good thing, I’ve decided. It helps to keep my mind free instead of worrying about my form and how much my chest wrinkles when I’m upside down. Lord. Let’s just say it’s also a good thing I didn’t pursue that career in Cirque du Soleil. Which brings me to the entrepreneurial idea I hatched in class today…Turtleneck yoga outfits. What do you think-am I on to something??
Slim Paley photo Hawaiian flowers (photo not enhanced )
This is what I wish I’d been thinking about in yoga class.
I’m also not used to doing yoga with strangers. It’s amazing how much one person in a class can utterly put you off. This morning there was a man that bore a striking resemblance to Simon, the Brooklyn husband on Housewives of NY. Perversely, I couldn’t shrug off the notion that he actually was Simon, right beside me here in Hawaii…achieving far better Warrior poses than mine and ruminating over which mini Speedo he’d sport apres class. It ruined my whole Chakra, Man.
Simon from Brooklyn
Sadly, What I was thinking about in yoga class
Meanwhile, back at the beach, I finished Byron in Love completely horrified. And I didn’t come without my bags packed-I read Benita Eisler’s Byron; Child of Passion, Fool of Fame several years ago. But unless my memory fails me-which is more than entirely possible, Eisler either soft pedaled the whole “sister-wife-incest-triangle- thing” or I was simply another of the endless legions of both sexes that preferred not to see past the legendary beauty of Byron, both in face and word, to the truly cruel and damaged person that he was. How did I not remember that he was born with a severely deformed club foot? Such an ironic twist of fate for an otherwise perfect physical specimen. One can’t help but wonder if he wouldn’t have been a far more decent person if he could have traded a little genius and beauty for a normal foot. But ah…The Fates…few poets ever wrote about them as beautifully as Byron.
This poem, in which he laments the loss of his physical powers to draw those he loves to him, was written on his 36th birthday. He died less than a year later.
(Apologies for the whiplash of including photos of Simon and Byron on the same post )
‘Tis time this heart should be unmoved,
Since others it has ceased to move;
Yet, though I cannot be beloved,
Still let me love!
The fire that on my bosom preys
Is lone as some volcanic isle;
No torch is kindled at its blaze-
A funeral pile.
Slim Paley photo
One last thought I had during Shivasana-I could live in a tropical place in a New York minute…
Tomorrow-a 7:00am hike down to a waterfall