Summer is time for projects, and I have done many over the years. Some gardening. But painting and tiling, mostly. (I enjoy these things - except for the weeding. I now have a blow torch for the weeds, which makes it more tolerable.) This year I have run out of things to tile, and very nearly run out of things to paint. The only thing left to paint doesn't want to be painted yet. I haven't finished thinking about it.
This leaves me with no projects, except one. The project this summer is... me.
I have finally, finally, finally returned to daily yoga practice properly - with no stops and starts, with consistency and focus. And no dizziness. None. My apprehension is still there; I think that will take more time and practice. But that is why it is called practice, and I am ready to practice. With my dizzy inner ear at last acting normal, I have been able to do full inversions for the first time in two years.
It feels like starting over in some ways. I can tell I have lost some of my strength, and some of my balance. And yet .. the muscle memory is there. It feels like spiritual awe to me when my brain cannot think of the next posture, but my body knows it, twists itself without me asking, to set up the next position, and the next. Twenty-six of them, and they're all still there. With practice they will be better. I breathe in, I breathe out. My body is doing what I am asking it to do again, and this feels better than anything else I know.
Tonight I went to "pyropilates", a class my yoga membership offers me for free. I did not know what I was getting into. Now, in the safety of my living room, I think I did something amazing. At the time it was mortal suffering. An hour of intense cardio and pilates in a hot room. Hot. I breathed a lot. I might go back, maybe. My body is not really a fan of the plank, but maybe that means I should make it plank more often. It probably means that.
I had coffee with CE this morning. She crossed the bridge in my direction, which was kind of her. Toasted her retirement. And talked about her future plans. I think she will have a happy retired life.
There have been some tentative steps toward new friendships. On their part, not mine, because I am cowardly like this. I find reciprocating these gestures nerve wracking, a bit like dating. I want to make a good impression without appearing to try too hard. I want to be myself, but I want to be cool. I want to be a cooler version of myself, less likely to spill something. I wonder why I made friends so effortlessly when I was young, and now it feels so deliberate. Sometimes I tell myself I have everyone I need in my life already. And sometimes I tell myself to go ahead and crack open my chest and see what pours out - and in.