sermon in the dirt iv: a cult pt 2
yoga attempts, a near-death experience, and labour power in the bush
I’ve been trying to get back into yoga. The first day I tried to get back into yoga, I set up an eight-minute sequence that my body screamed at me not to do. I didn’t even have the chance to set my mat up—I knew if I went looking for it, I’d come up with some reason to ditch the effort altogether. I opted for a nine minute sequence, and gave up after five—not out of exhaution, but mental discomfort. My body was slick with a noxious sweat—sickly, and scared. Like an anxious animal in a cage.
The second day of trying to get back into yoga, I did no yoga. I put on costume earrings that reminded me of my grandmother Caryl and plum lipstick that reminded me of my grandmother Marie, and I went to get medical imaging of my abdomen done, because I had a gallbladder attack a few weeks ago.