Stephanie Ritchie on 8/6/2008
I told my husband that I'm not sure about this blog business. My seedling yoga practice is having a hard time growing roots and I feel a bit like a poser. He tried to reassure me by saying (again) that he asked me to blog my EY experience, not to become an instant yogini. But most of all not to become an instant fake yogini.
Ahhh, the joy of low expectations. Now we're talking. Something I might actually be able to keep up.
Before you read down your nose at me, judging my lack of ambition (or your own) let me remind you that for 5 months now a good night's sleep for me is 5-6 hours. An average night is 4. Four non-contiguous hours of light sleep. Sleep so light I can hear frogs fart outside the window. Sleep so light that the other night, I awoke on the couch thinking I could hear water dripping at regular intervals. I got up to investigate. Like the Zombie I am, I shuffled glassy-eyed through the living room and into the kitchen toward the sound. The closer I got to the noise, the more crazed and twisted my face became in anticipation of reaching the source. Would I find the sink leaking? The washer? The refrigerator? I stood at the far kitchen wall where the sound was loudest. I looked all around but no water. Casting my eyes upward I finally rested my wild gaze on the source of the "noise" that awakened me from my so called sleep. The clock. I sleep so lightly I can hear a clock ticking in the next room.
This is mommy ear. Either that or I have gone batshit crazy.
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