Day 40 - The Great Vigil of Easter

Easter begins at sunset today (7:42 pm Eastern Standard Time), which is when 40 Days of Yoga ends. 

This is when the Paschal Candle is lit, when the Exultet is sung, when Alleluia returns. 

Yoga is all about restoration, healing and new life.  Yoga is about the resurrection I feel at the end of every yoga practice when I awake from corpse pose feeling like a young chick.

Thanks, everyone, for reading.  Keep in touch at The Sacred Ordinary (and the ordinary, ordinary). 

Day 39 - Coming Home

My husband and son have been gone five days on a college trip - an interesting and stressful time of life, choosing a school.

While they were away, my teenaged son and I had nice telephone chats.  

He asked, "What do you do while we're gone?" 

"Oh, work a lot.  Do yoga.  Play around with my blog.  I have a few posts I think you'd enjoy."

"Send them to me.  I'll read them as we drive to Boston."

OMG.  He wants to read my blog!!!  We can bond over writing.  Maybe he'll start a blog too.  We can get to know each other better.  I'll have another follower!

The road trip was serious guy time.  When they return the car leaks Red Bull, Amp, and Pringles cans, as well as a variety of disgusting cellophane bags.  Obviously Mrs. Fresh Fruit and Whole Grains did not go on the trip.

Happy to be home and to see me, there are hugs all around.  They've brought presents - Magic Hat pint glasses from Burlington.  (hum, what shall I use those for?)   My son gives me a bag of "Crunchy Cheddar Jalapeno Cheetos" (made with real cheese)

"Try your Cheetos." 

"I don't usually like Cheetos."

"I know, but these have jalapenos.  You like jalapenos."

To show good will, I pop one in my mouth.

Father and son laugh hysterically as I wince and grimace at the "flavor" and try to figure out where I can spit it out or if I should risk swallowing it. 

"Why did you make me put this horrible thing in my mouth?" 

The 17-year old replies, "Well, you made me read your blog."

Day 38 - Practice And The Unconscious

After 38 days I'm now dreaming about it.  Long and specific sequences have been sucked into my unconscious mind.  In the words of Dave Barry, "I am not making this up."

In the dream I sit erect, mindfully placing each finger in its proper place.  My eyes concentrated at blogspot.com.

Save me....

Day 37 - Yoga Class vs. Home Practice

People often say, "I don't need to go to church.  I can pray at home."  Amen.  I hear you.

I don't need to go to yoga class either.  I can do all the poses and meditations at home.  At home I can even customize them to perfectly suit my needs.

The hitch is, when I'm home I have to deal with the gravitational pull toward the sofa - toward eating cheese and drinking beer. 

This not helpful first thing in the morning.

Day 36 - I Fell In Love And Fell Off The Wagon (Guest Written by Jeanne McCann)

A guest posting by triathlete, Jeanne McCann, whose popular blog Born Not to Run inspired 40 Days of Yoga.  Travel along her twisted path of healing and falling in love, which does not, btw, end up in Bali.


I discovered running late in life, at the advanced age of 48, after battling severe back pain of unknown etiology.  In other words, the doctors couldn't agree.  I spent two years in rehab and on drugs and then, in homage to the wave of religious technicolor movies in the 1950s, I literally threw away my cane, started walk-running, and completed the Marine Corps Marathon.

Back pain gone!

The next year I did the marathon again, only gave up the walking part.  By that time I had built a mini-brand as a blogger, joined a community of running bloggers, started training and the next thing you know I had morphed from a middle-aged slightly paunchy 11:30 minute per mile runner into a sleek (still slightly paunchy through -  sigh) 10:00 minute per mile runner.  I ran every race there was.  I knew all the runners.  I knew all the running clubs.  I knew all the running theories.  I read running books, listened to running podcasts, read running blogs, and had running friends.  One thing lead to another and before you could say Bob's Your Uncle I was out there doing triathlons.  I became, in short, an athlete.

I'm not telling you all this to make you feel bad.  God knows you're already feeling bad enough from watching Diane complete 40 days of yoga AND blogging (which is harder??  You tell ME.)  I tell you only so that you understand that when I fell in love, sometime around my birthday last year (February 7 thank you very much), it all went to hell in a handbasket.

I gradually replaced all that frenetic activity with, well, cooking.  Nesting.  Noodling.

It gradually occurred to me that I really really hated being rushed.  And if you've never participated in a triathlon, let me tell you:  rushing is required.  You actually train to rush.  You rush from one activity to the next and if you take too long, you lose time and you lose place and you lose face.

So I gradually cut back on my six-day-a-week training, never thinking it would signal the demise of my body.  

Since falling in love, I've developed Achilles enteritis, iliotibial band issues, and my back pain has returned with a vengence.  He's developed plantar fasciitis and bad knees! 

Whoever said love is pain wasn't kidding.

But now that we're settled and noodling and nesting all the live-long day, I'm finding there was a connection between feeling good and being active and being in love and getting gradually inactive. 

The straw was hopping on the scale this morning and seeing a horrible number.  A number that is so horrible it shouldn't even be allowed to exist.  When you reach that number, the scale should switch to binary or just start whistling or tell you a funny joke or something.  Anything but that number.

And I wouldn't even be hopping on the scale if it weren't for Miss Diane, a woman who watches her weight like it's her job.  Because experts be damned, apparently hopping on the scale every day actually works.

I've tried in vain to be kind to myself.  "I'll just be fat," I say to myself.  "Look at Rubens, he loved fat women!"  But Rubens is long dead and you know what?  Back then clothes were a little more forgiving.  You could wrap yourself up in long flowing robes and corsets and petticoats and whatall and also?  There were no sizes!  You needed a gown - someone took your measurements and whipped something up.  No need to fit.  Fit is so 20th century.

But I digress.  The point is, being in love shouldn't make your body fall apart.

Readers:  What advice do you have for Miss Lovebird?

Day 35 - In Front of God and Everybody

My advice is, if you work in a church, never, let's spell it out, E - V- E- R "take on" something for Lent instead of "giving up" something for Lent.  Extra responsibilities of Palm Sunday, Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter Vigil and Easter will drown you.  Between increasing services, practice sessions, and rehearsals, you will utterly regret ever "taking on" a discipline.  Stress will creep into your spiritual practice.

Having carefully counted the 40 days - 46 between Ash Wednesday and Easter with 6 Sundays off, I was shocked to hear the priest say during the parish announcments, that "Triduum" - Thursday, Friday and Saturday of Holy Week - is "not part of Lent."  WTF?  My blog is called 40 Days of Yoga.  Am I supposed to change it to "37 Days of Yoga"? 

The parish announcements went on - a rummage sale, a car wash - all the while I'm recounting on my fingers different ways to subtract three come up with 40.  By my estimation the priest is simply WRONG.  Now the priest is talking about the parish budget shortfall.  It's substantial.  The numbers are not good.  The priest gets to the end of the announcements and asks if anyone in the congregation has other information to share. 

I get off the organ bench and take the microphone, in front of God and Everybody. 

"I have just done a little calculating on my own - not about the church budget, but about the church calendar.  I want you all to know, there really isn't any way 40 days of Lent can end before Easter Vigil at sunset, even though I would be eternally grateful if they would because I've been doing 40 Days of Yoga.  Oh, You didn't know that?  Well, I'm sure you'd all like to hear more about it, so take the visitor's card out of your pew rack and pick up the little pencil next to the hymnal.  Write down this URL:  
http://www.40daysofyoga2011.blogspot.com/.  You can read all about my blog, and even, in the words of our Lord and Savior, "Follow Me!"  

I could see two lady ushers nodding knowingly to themselves in the back row.  They clearly understood my topic and my passion.   I testified a little more about yoga, India, exercise and all of the healing benefits available for everyone - what a difference it has made in my life and how they should take up yoga rather than watching American Idol.  Around this time two lady ushers emerged from the sacristy with a first aid box. 

When I woke up I was coughing and sputtering.  The usher ladies were putting away a little bottle of smelling salts.

I stood up, brushed myself off, walked over to the organ and played the offertory hymn.

Day 34 - Yoga Enhancement

The reason I love the studio's back corner has nothing to do with distance from the teacher or the mirror. 

It has to do with an extrasensory connection that happens only in that particular spot in the room.  To use language parlayed in alternative healing circles, that spot has "earth energy".  People who practice in that corner know what I'm talking about. 

In this corner, I dissolve, ameba-like, into Child's Pose.  Breathing into this primal position, my olfactory senses engaging with the studio's downstairs neighbor, enlivening and deepening the day's yoga practice through the much-loved aroma of Starbucks French Roast Coffee.

Day 33 - Vegetable Smoothie Recipe

This recipe came from Pat Newton of Columbus, Georgia.  Originally a Borsch, I've turned it into a post-yoga smoothie or even a slushy, depending on the desired temperature and texture.  Ingredients are flexible.

Ingredients:

a very large pot of water, beef stock or vegetable stock
finely chopped garlic - as much as you like
1 small head of cabbage chopped
3 - 5 medium potatoes, peeled and chopped
6 medium beets, including greens and stems, peeled and roughly chopped
2 - 3 peeled and chopped onions
3 peeled and chopped carrots
3 chopped leeks (wash very well)
dried or fresh dill

Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer until vegetables are very tender.  (at least one hour)  When cool, freeze in pint sized containers.  Defrost in the refrigerator, and when you finish practice, quickly blend the pint-sized soup into a post-yoga snack.  I drink it from a pint glass -  a cold brew to quench my thirst.

Day 32 - Bring Out The Violins

I asked Nancy before class, as nice nice nicely as I could, if she would mind having no music during Savasana (final meditation).  "Sure!  No problem."  Nancy is a fine master teacher and I was relieved that she accommodated my request.

Toward the end of class she put on Spiegel im Spiegel by Arvo Part.

A few words about this extraordinary piece of music. 

First - go listen to it on the internet.  It's awesome!  I would link here for you, but that's probably a copyright violation.  Second - don't listen to the recording Nancy played in our class.

It was too slow.  I like slow.  Really I do.  When I studied Kabuki Dance I was was the slowest student in the class.  The lowest setting on my metronome is 40, and that was how SLOOOOOOOW the quarter note was played on Nancy's recording. 

It was too soft.  I like soft.  Really I do.  You should see how small my conducting is when I want a soft sound from the choir.  A small twitch of the wrist instead of a beat.  But this piece is not only about the violin.   Arvo wrote delicious bass growls in the piano part and sprinkled in dissonances.  It's also the first piano piece I've played that uses the instrument's very top note. 

The real problem, though was the violinist's vibrato.  Spiegel im Spiegel is minimalist music.  It's a zen garden.  some moss.  a stone.  a little pond.  It's not rhododendrons and magnolias and tulips and ivy and bird baths and garden gnomes.  This music is restrained.  simple.  subtle. 

My violin partner, Peter, understands, as does Joshua Bell, that sometimes less vibrato means better music.  In case you're not sure what vibrato is, it's that Ya-ee-Ya-ee-Ya-ee-Ya-ee wavering that some instruments and voices make.  Think wobbling opera singer.  Think bold floral wallpaper.  Think fancy cocktail with umbrella and celery and plastic sworded fruit.  I prefer my pitches straight up, thank you.

So I'm lying on my back in Savasana, trying not to think unkind thoughts about the teacher who must have thought this would-be zen garden substituted for silence.  I'm frustrated at myself for being so opinionated and inflexible.  Isn't yoga all about flexibility?  Stretching to new places?  Opening up?  And deep deep gratitude when Nancy, per my earlier request, turned off the music.

Day 31 A Broken Record (Guest Written by Fern Lee, Yoga Teacher)

Sometimes I feel like a broken record.  I say the same things over and over in my Yoga classes, to my family, inside my head.  These routined patterns of thought fascinate me.  Fortunately, I've realized I'm not the only one who has this condition.  A lot of us do: we worry, compare, judge, fear...

I speak to this in class; suggesting that as we notice 'thinking' we get some space from it, or neutrality, that we don't own it as much.  After all, how trustworthy are your thoughts?  So, alongside the opening stretch of Trikonasana, open the mind, maybe even taking a faithful leap into Balancing Stick.  Feel the core strength of Chaturanga, while at the same time asking the heart to melt.  Let's kindly notice the "I can't" that starts a thought and go deeper.  What else do we think?  And what else?  And how does that feel?  Then, maybe, "Who's thinking?" Or not thinking at all, just being. 

A couple weeks ago I asked my Remedial and Therapeutic class to 'Compensate with Consciousness'.  I often ask this particular class to do this, but had never used the phrase before.  Nearly everyone has something going on in their bodies to be cautious about.  And this class has poets and wordsmiths in it; we love rolling words like penultimate, gestalt, ischial tuberosities and Tadaka Mudra around, and we loved my new phrase!  I wrote it on the white board, and started using it in all my classes, and meditating on it.  Going deeper.  Sounding like a broken record.

Eventuall, I realized it was a difficult instruction.  At the same time I realized it serves us to be broken; to get deeper into the essence of a thing, to grow in consciousness.  God, Yoga, Source, to be flawed, wounded, broken:  it's all the same.

Day 30 - Tomorrow's Music

Here's what I plan to do tomorrow:

• sit outside and ponder the trees
• learn to draw
• make more healthy dinners
• create a home yoga practice

All I need to make the home practice work is the right music.  One good song to keep me going for another set of Surya Namaskara B.

My husband is confused.  "I thought you didn't like music during yoga class."

Well ... it depends.

I don't like music while the teacher is talking.  Too much input.  How am I supposed to capture one foot behind my back (palm up) for Dancer Pose, breathe and be-in-the-moment while I note the chord progression and decipher words to the French pop song.  I love this piece of music and am dying to ask the teacher what it is, only I don't want to encourage her.

Because I hate music in yoga class.

I keep looking for the right music for my home practice.  I need a "mix".

I'll use Arvo Part's hypnotic "Spiegel im Spiegel" for opening gentle stretches.  "Here Comes the Sun" would be perfect for Sun Salutations.  I can time warp myself to age 13 when cartwheels, splits and backbends were part of the active repertoire.  Tree Pose doesn't really need music, but you know what happens when the sound track stops.

I'll take a short potty break, grab a drink of water and a little snack.  That plant needs watering.  Why not check my e-mail?  A note from Fern!  How lovely!  I should reply right now.

"Hi Fern!  I'm glad you had a nice trip.  What's new with your yoga teaching?  You would be so proud of my home practice.  I've created a music mix that motivates me to do poses on my own.  I've finally arrived!  xoxo  Diane"

Tomorrow I'll use bird songs for Tree Pose.

Day 29 - Transcendental Cucumber

40 Days of Yoga has not helped my healthy eating resolve.  There are only so many hours in each day, and cooking has recently moved to the back burner.

Earlier this week, my husband's doctor had words with him about eating less salt and fat and calories in general.  This was just before we went to all-you-can-eat Indian Buffet. 

So, this morning, while the coffee dripped through the filter, I sliced a cucumber for Raita - a simple and healthy dish. 

I peeled the cucumber, sliced it lengthwise and removed the seeds for compost.  I chopped it into medium small dice, and admired its delicate green.  I know the perfect name for that shade of green.  I will call it, "cucumber".  I almost fell into a transcendental reverie with the little cucumber dices and their pale cucumber color.  I've had this kind of experience before - once with an orange in the sunshine.  The only thing holding me back from transcendence this morning was that I had not yet had my coffee.

First things first.

Day 28 - Warming Up

Here's what you might see in our studio before class starts:

A 20-something woman sitting on her mat drinking tea with wires in her ears while she reads the paper. 

A 20-something man alternating down dogs with pushups, in case there won't be enough of these in the class.

Invariably there is a certain middle-aged woman with big hair, lying on her back in Supta Baddha Konasana with her hands on her belly.  Big-Hair reclines this way for 15 minutes before class begins.  Her hands shift position from time to time.  Sometimes they are on her chest, neck, or covering her already-closed eyes. 

Keep reading if you're curious about what she's doing.

Big-Hair is doing Reiki. 

Yes, your author is Big-Hair.

Reiki is a gentle healing art that promotes balance and healing by tapping into energy.  (which I like to define as spiritual energy, but you don't have to see it that way)  I like to begin yoga sessions with a Reiki warm-up.  Depending on if the Home Team is ahead or the Away Team is ahead, I sometimes offer "Distant Reiki", on behalf of a friend, who has asked for prayers for her troubled son (as one example).  Sometimes I soak in all the healing for myself, and my family will be glad, later on, that I took this preventative measure.   Reiki and prayer are synonymous for me.  Sometimes (again, depending which team needs a few extra points that day) I tap into this healing method on behalf of the world - on behalf of hurting land, waters, air, plants, and animals. including humans animals. 

A simple, wordless prayer.

Day 27 - Naked Yoga

I have a friend who teaches Naked Yoga in California. 

I would never go to this class.  In the first place, the class is in a gay men's club and I'd be worried that I didn't fit in.  In the second place, I haven't even gone topless on the beaches in France where c'est normal, n'est pas?

But I think it's great that there are naked yoga classes for people who want them. 

I'm guessing the room is heated so no one gets chilly.  I'm also guessing those yoga mats get pretty ... distinctive ... after a workout. 

But think of all the money yogis save on outfits.  And time saved without extra laundry!   Oh, but the extra expense of wax jobs.

Rien ne parfait.

Day 26 - Corrected Vision

After Sunday's experience, (see Day 25, Communication Issues) today's experience is just too weird. 

On Sunday two young metro riders thought my husband and I qualified for senior citizen seating.  (I'm 51 and in case you didn't know, and I do yoga every day!) 

Today as I walked home from noon yoga class, it was beautiful Washington spring weather.  There was also a spring in my step.  My jacket was tied around my hips and my yoga mat was slung over my shoulder. 

As I walked past Hearst School Playground, I watched the noisy children swinging and tried to guess their ages.  Hearst School used to be K - 3, but these children looked like 6th graders.  They saw me watching them and waved.  I gave a friendly smile and waved in return. 

It was hard to tell their ages.  There were both big ones and little ones.  Each was unique, so it was hard to categorize them.  The enthusiastic waving continues.  "Hi!" they smile and shout.  "Hi, Grandma!" 

Oh for Pete's Sake!

I shout back (a smiling kind of shout, of course), "I'm not a grandma!"  (see how I'm still smiling at these wonderful children.)

I kept walking and didn't give much chance for them to reconsider.  I knew that if they looked at my face again they would see their mistake right away. 

I hear words relayed one to another.  "She says she's not a grandma."  and then I hear "...gray hair."  and then I hear, "Sorry!"  "Sorry, ma'am!"

I understand.  My eyesight's not that good these days.  That's probably their problem too.

Day 25 - Communication Issues

A couple on the metro asked my husband and me if we would like their seats.

I shrugged.  "Only if you're getting off at the next stop." 

They didn't say, but looked like they wanted to stand up. 

I asked again, "Are you getting off at the next stop?" 

They clearly were native English speakers, but something in our communication was confusing.  They weren't from around here.  They weren't used to riding the metro.  They carried a guide book for visiting Washington cherry blossoms.  The couple stood up and we took their seats, but they did not get off at the next stop.  They did not get off at the stop after that.  They stayed on for the next five stops and were still standing in the aisle when we got off at Metro Center. 

You've already figured out why they offered their seats.  I'm slow to understand.  I don't really comprehend it at all.  I don't believe it.  I am denying that they offered their seats -

Because We Are Old. 

Hell!  I do yoga every day!  I'm only 51.  I'm going to live to be 104, so technically I'm not even middle aged!

As bad as that moment was, it gets worse.  The God's Honest Truth is that after the couple missed the second stop (giving them the benefit of the doubt) I made a spectical of myself saying, "You offered those seats because you think we're OLD!?!"

Aren't you glad you don't live with me?  Imagine spending your days with such a reactive person, unable to edit thoughts before they combust into speech.  If you want to read more about my communication issues, see Day 20 or Day 2.

Eventually I settled down and was able to look objectively at the situation.

I was able to turn to my husband with newfound clarity. 

"Honey, they didn't really think I looked old.   It was your gray hair they were noticing."

Day 24 - If It Feels Good

Simone used to be my favorite yoga teacher.  The first class I took with her, she smiled from ear to ear the entire time.  This cheerful countenance was immovable, throughout all of our sweating, stretching and trembling.  My first thought about the excessive dental display (perfection not withstanding) was WTF?!?!?  But then I fell into the rhythm of classes with Simone and the cheshire cat grin became as welcome and anticipated as a rum drink in the tropics.

Many teachers handle multi-level classes by giving layered instructions.  Something like, "level one take child's pose, level two do chaturanga, level three do 10 pushups balancing on the fingertips of your left hand and level four, time to levitate!"

Simone's multi-level approach was simply,  "If it feels good...", delivered with the aforementioned smile.

"If it feeeels good...." 

God, I miss Simone.

In addition to being a yoga teacher and a dancer, Simone was a dress designer and seamstress.  Before class she could be overheard using words like "bodice",  "flounce", and "something pretty".

Everything about Simone's class was pretty.  Even the way she called out "You can do it!" during ab work.  Not that I really could, but I liked hearing that Simone thought so.

During savasana Simone went around the large class adjusting heads as we lay in final relaxation.  If we didn't need adjusting, she pressed our shoulders down or stroked our foreheads.  Ah!  Simone! 

That's when I started buying lottery tickets.  My plan was to have Simone come to the house every morning for a private yoga class.  Once I won The Big One she wouldn't even have to say, "If it feels good..." because she would be focusing on me and me alone, so everything would feel good!  All of those smiles just to light up my morning.  Having won the lottery bigtime, I would pay her $2,000 for every morning class.  After a year I would double that amount.  I would give Simone an all-expense paid vacation to Hawaii, including a yoga clothing budget so that she could sport the newest and coolest in yoga wear and always have something pretty, with a little flounce.

Day 23 - Yoga c. 1977

Today, yoga in America is mainstream. People born after 1970 may not understand the subculture it once was - the semi-secrecy that came along with owning a yoga mat 25 years ago.  It was hard to even find one to buy.  Internet shopping was not an option.

As a church musician I felt extra pressure to keep my yoga habit in the closet. I worried that choir members or clergy would think I had converted to Hinduism, involved myself in devil worship, or had in some mysterious manner forsaken the wholesome way of bread, wine and coffee hour.  My liberation came the day that Reverend Louise said to the church staff, "I cannot make that meeting time, it conflicts with my yoga class." With that imprimatur I began to carry my mat without fear.

In 1977, when I was a teenager, the church youth group leader became a devoted yogi. She invited a small group of teens to visit at her home one weekend. While she practiced asanas on the living room carpet, we thumbed through the yoga book on her coffee table.  Good God! The twisted postures - arms and legs mangled together! Eyes rolled into heads, tongues sticking out, stomachs vacuumed up to disappearing. The book included confusing dietary recommendations and even more confusing cleansing methods for various entry and exit points in the body. We pointed and giggled as if it were a pornographic magazine.

Fast forward 30 years.  The three teenagers who shared that early experience with yoga are still in touch. One is a nurse. One is a yoga teacher. One is yours truly. We talk about how this holy woman touched our lives and remember how she welcomed us into the life she shared with her family and the love she extended to us.  We remember how she made each of us feel special.

We tried to find her through Facebook and through People Finders, to no avail.   She moved to an Ashram and was never heard from again.  She left the grownup teens longing to show their appreciation - wanting to say thank you.

Dottie, we still love you.

Day 22 - House Cleaning

The 40 Days of Yoga Substitution System strikes again.

Friday is my day off. Totally and completely off. Which means all I have to do today is read the papers, write my blogs, practice music for two hours, teach a one-hour organ lesson, have a 45 minute conference call, and make broccoli quiche and borsch because Mary Ellen, a dear friend from long ago and far away, is coming for supper!

Oh.  And I haven’t cleaned the house since Christmas.

Multi-tasking suggestions anyone?

My Jewish friends make a religious act out of cleaning their homes for passover.  Why can't I do a little holistic yoga/cleaning combo?

Not only would that allow me to fit in yoga, but I could conquer my home-yoga practice resistance problem (see Day 14) and clean the house at the same time!

I will set my timer for Two Hours! Practice will be self-motivated and self-lead. Who needs expensive yoga studios and fancy pants?  Who needs annoying yoga teachers that don't understand why I can't spread my toes and don't even know where my IT Band is.
　
Having set my intention, I will breathe deeply and engage my whole body as I carry the vacuum to the far reaches of my house. I will use my core to protect my back, engage Mula Bandha, stimulating Uddiyana Bandha. I will bend and bow. I will work my triceps, biceps, glutes and abs.   I will reach into dark nether regions performing Dust Bunny Asana.  I will kneel humbly at my floors - yea even the bathroom floor. This isn't just exercise. This is prayer!  My prayer of thanksgiving for shelter. My prayer for family harmony. My prayer of joy and gratitude that Mary Ellen is still my friend after 30 years.  My prayer of celebration for the source of all this energy. 

I will stretch my limbs to their outer limits and stretch my yoga practice to it's last inch of practicality.