I have been remiss in daily yoga practice. In fact, I fell off the wagon. I’ve been hiding from my mat. In true fashion I’ve been telling myself I can go back anytime. I feel the guilt of not keeping my word to myself to be a proper yogini.
It’s time to go back. Going back is not the same as starting – there is a difficulty rating that was not apparent when I first started. Now it feels hard to start. It seems a little kick start has been necessary.
I was clamming at the ocean this weekend – we love us some Razor Clams. It was a marvelous night for clamming, by the way. Yes, it was crisp – okay maybe cold. But I bundle up in my neoprene waders and my new clamming boots. I have my pilot’s grade coat that is meant to deal with near blizzard conditions while a pilot does his walk around just before the plane is de-iced. I don’t live in the Bahamas. They don’t have Razor Clams there. It was a marvelous night because it wasn’t raining. I won’t go clamming in the cold and the dark and the rain. Rain is my line in the sand.
As I was pulling up the clams it became evident to me that I am not taking care of myself. My lower back was really feeling the suction of the sand in the clam-gun as I pulled up another. I made it a point to concentrate on using my legs. On the next hole I made it a point to square my shoulders and to pull with my legs. On the next hole I made it a point to pull the clam up faster and not prolong the agony. The limit on Razor clams is fifteen per person. I got to twelve and decided if I pull another I will be unable to walk back up the beach to my car. As it was I still needed to walk down to the water to get a bucket of seawater to soak these clams overnight so that I don’t have to clean them until the next morning.
Walking up the beach took a couple of attempts. It is wonderful how when one is walking one can just stop and readjust, move the bucket of water from one hand to the other, switch up how one carries the clamming gun, push the clam net around to the back of one’s body so that one isn’t kicking it with every step. I appreciate that my friend walked slow alongside me. We knuckle bumped a good clam dig…proud to just be out there gathering our own dinner. Fifteen clams is two meals for two people. These are large clams. I made her stop twice before we got to the car.
My lower back was in knots. While I was in the hot shower after we got home I found myself practicing modified cat/cows using the built-in ledge of my shower stall. I found myself lifting my arm high over head with a gentle bend and allowing the hot water to massage the side of my back, then changing sides to allow the hot water to massage my back on the other side. I took meds. I drank wine. I went to bed.
I can feel the knot in my back. It is one. It is a shadow of what it was last night. This morning I rolled out my mat and prior to meditations I loosened up my lower back. It was a morning of light and loose cats and cows, seated twists, prone postures with the 4 pose, windshield wipers and legs wide on the mat to allow my knees to fall to one side then the other. I did a very low bridge pose. Very low, meaning I think I lifted my butt off the mat, but I have no film footage to prove it.
I am back on the mat. I can’t believe Razor clams kicked my butt like that.