Today, a Monday, is usually Gary's day off. He plays in the arena with his buds, hangs out, no riders, no yoga students. Gary is a horse, btw. But, horse fuzz coat time is coming and we wanted to get in a photo shoot of his changed topline, and maybe some photos and video of us riding.
That was our agenda. Gary had something else in mind, as he fussed about standing, was not interested in looking pretty for the camera (drooling his 'chaw' of stolen alfalfa), and just looking askance at us. Oh well. I got on anyway, even though the next shift of playing horses were playing hard, squealing, raising dust and running the fence.
That's when things began to get a little strange. We played yoga pose / counterpose, which actually went great (more on that when I get the photos). Then things began to get still, and I sensed Gary asking me for more and yet more stillness. I commented to Stacey that I did not feel as velcroed as I have been lately. She asked me where the velcro was. As I went into my body, I began to feel a racing, a discomfort, at the area of the diaphragm, at the origin of the psoas. Ah, would breath help here? I changed my breathing, and I could feel almost nauseous. So I cried, and then cried some more, and then Gary walked off and we walked it off and he went back to his day off and I went back to my day.
Why was it necessary for me to cry? Maybe I'll find that out, maybe not. That wasn't the point. It just needed to happen, to free that internal constriction, to find my velcro.
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