Monday, August 6, 2012

The First Sunday Night

I made it to the art museum yesterday (primarily for the 100 Years 100 Ranchers exhibit – which was stunning )   I also had to kind of drag myself to yoga hour at 4 p.m. – part of a promise I made to myself to make regaining a higher level fitness a priority (I’m taking it gradually. I’m not jumping into “Insanity” workout because, well, I'm not insane…or 10-minute abs or butts or whatever body part).

In-between I read the Sunday New York Times (one of my splurges is having it delivered). Actually READ it. At home. On the couch. In the last several years of working I traveled quite a bit (about 15-20 trips a year – mostly by airplane).  I would save my favorite sections: Style, Arts and Leisure, Travel, the Magazine - you can tell where my proclivities are – and Book Review – I never read books, just reviews of books -  oh, and SundayReview so I wasn’t a complete slacker. I’d bring these with me for airplane reading to bridge the 4 a.m. wakeup to the 5 a.m. pick-up for the 6:15 fight and the first leg until I was awake enough to start reviewing whatever I needed to for the training, meeting, or workshop I was flying somewhere to conduct. Reading on airplanes felt like sacred time – the only place of solitude (especially with noise-cancelling head phones).  It was the only place I could actually focus…sustain attention. I’m re-learning to read though. I’ll talk about that another day.

Anyway, this made for a better-than-usual Sunday. But the real difference was Sunday night. Notably absent was that feeling of “my time” waning and the return to the onslaught looming. In the place of anxiety was…calm. Maybe the yoga had something to do with it.

P.S.: Is it cheating to take an Advil a half-hour before yoga? Hope not.

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