8- Different strokes, different ponds.

 
Just as many types of music there are in the world, so there are yoga studios.

Many studios approach yoga from an introspective standpoint.  The practice is personal, quiet, fluid and ties to the breath. The breath is the grounding element of a class.

Today I went to Groove yoga.  The 9:30 class was wall to wall, mostly women from 25-50 but a few men as well.  I believe there were five of us.

The colors are bright, vibrant green and blues full of cool energy. The space is sparse, like other studios but has far fewer Buddhist or Asian nods in the decor.

Most notably, Groove is quite centered on the music.  The music is up-beat but not Rave upbeat.  It’s happy, bouncy and positive. The other element about Groove is the level of the music.  Its quite present.  I won’t go so far as to say loud, but it is certainly in the forefront of the practice. The music is so central to the practice, the instructor needs to wear a head set (a la rock star / MC) to be heard.

Although the instructor was quite centered, competent and reminded all to breathe, I found myself grounding to the music. I was thankful when I was reminded to find my breath.

This morning’s class was one of the most challenging classes to date.  The postures were familiar with subtle twists to them. These twists were well orchestrated to allow for a beautiful flow even for a newcomer to the studio.

In my other posts, I have commented on finding flow or ease of transitions. I believe flow is essential to be in the practice.  Finding flow was easy in this class. The flow was more like a modern dance routine rather than a ballet. Nonetheless, the flow was outstanding!

On a funny personal note; I came home drenched in sweat ready for a quick shower and back to work. The universe did not have that in the plans I stripped down, turned on the water and stood in a stream of nothing. Unbeknownst to me, my water had been shut off!

Still cold from sweat, and of course irritated, I went to my front door to see if the city had, for some reason, turned off my water.  Nude, I peered through the crack for the front door, saw no one so opened the door a bit to look under the door mat or on the door itself:  Nothing.

The only thing I saw was my senior citizen neighbor across the street peering at my front door as my hand reached around to feel for a note perhaps discreetly pinned to the door.

I called the City and spoke with a person who said all her information showed I was current and all was well. There appeared to be no reason the water should be interrupted.

I ran to the closet, toweled off and dressed.

As I headed out, I asked my neighbor if he had seen anything.  He said not too long ago there was a City truck in front of the house for a few minutes and then left. He said he didn’t see the woman in the truck really doing anything. She appeared to have just parked for a few minutes, then turned around in his driveway and left.

Confused, I picked up the phone and called the City again and told them that one of their trucks had been outside my house, prior to the interruption.  The person I spoke with at the City (different than the first time) looked up my account and said she showed no record of me calling just minutes before, no record of my service being interrupted, and no service ticket to fix it.  It's a good thing a happened to call again. Otherwise, its likely I would be out of water tomorrow as well.

She issued a 'work order' and said someone would contact me and let me know what the problem was.

I find it very confusing that the City can dispatch a woman in a truck to come to my house, to do something as invasive as shut off my water and there is no record of it. I find it equally odd that I can call the first time to explain the situation and ask for help only to later realize that my request had somehow not been heard.  Odd?

Other issues in my business and daddy life have popped up today, making today quite scattered.  Perhaps this morning’s upbeat, positive class was getting me ready to weather a storm... while still covered in the salty brine of sweat.

Namaste-