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Spotted Dog Farm Blog

Partner Yoga

The return of warm weather means the return of porch yoga, and Steve and I couldn't be happier.  He is not the most dedicated yogi, but he is definitely the most content.

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We're All a Little Broken Here

I wrote the following post in 2016 - about a year after my dad died.  And then I didn't hit publish, because it felt like I was too close to it.  But I just found it in my drafts, and wow, reading it took me right back there.  When I was fumbling to find normal again, and thinking I could maybe see it but wasn't quite sure.  And it's a relief to look back and think that yes, things have gotten better.  But the rawness - that still makes my heart speed up a little, and my breath get short, because for sure that's how I felt most of the time that year after my dad died.

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The Reality of (Last Night's) Hot Yoga

Here's my truth about hot yoga - at least hot yoga last night.  Yes, hot yoga was a blessing last year when I needed it, yes the arm balances are cool, yes I've made good friends.

But last night - the reality of last night's class is that I was so phucking hot that when the person beside me started coughing I was grateful for the breeze.  Yeah.  It was that kind of night.

I guess a slight addition to that - and a good side effect of growing up - is that when I'm that kind of cooked - all "sweet baby Jesus thank you for making my neighbor cough a slight breeze over my wrecked person" - now I just don't do a damn thing.  I choose my own adventure and for half of the class I did poses on the floor that slightly resembled the rest of the class while they were on their feet, and then I just flopped on my back and zoned out while they continued around me.  In my younger days I'd have just kept going, until I keeled over.  Literally.  So I think this is progress in the personal growth department.  You have to take it where you find it.

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How to Irritate Your Husband

That's kind of a presumptuous title - I mean, there are probably a thousand ways to irritate one's husband.  And to be fair, vice versa.  But in this particular case it all goes back to yoga.

Because I've been doing a lot of yoga, and I get that the point of yoga is totally breath,  and centering and all that.  And I believe it.  I mean, it kind of saved me last year.  But... I do like the poses.  They're fun.  And if you show up every single day you eventually discover you can do more of them.  And of course the more you do the more you want to do. Or at least that's how I am.  It's fun > I like fun > I want to have more fun.  

Which leads me to... the handstand.  I can kind of do one - like if you just want it to look really controlled, and you get vertical, and you're not picky about how long you stay up there, then I can totally do one.  But I want to just stay up there until I decide to come down.  And that's not yet in my repertoire.

So I bought this video.  Which is awesome.  And he's all about practicing a lot - like walking yourself backwards up the wall ten times, four times a day, and hold it for time.  And use a spotter so you don't have to go up and down so often!  Great advice, except there's no one in my life who is just hanging around four different times a day to help my handstand technique.

Enter the bedroom hall.  Genius, right?!  Walk yourself backwards up the wall  and you basically have a spotter - because you can't fall over either way.  Which leads me to irritating the husband.  

He recently painted this entire house.  And I'm incredibly grateful.  And we painted it white - because the land is so pretty and the windows are so big that we decided the landscape was the focal point.  True!  But the white means that even when you wear clean socks, walking yourself backwards up the wall a few times a day might leave a teeny tiny (big) mark on the white paint.  And Clark's pretty patient, but my grasp of the handstand is in no way more important to him than his not having to paint that wall again.

Looks like the next coat of white paint is on me.

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The Gift of Space

I was talking to a good friend about how our last year had gone - mine has been on the tumultuous side, for sure.  Some great (moving back to the farm), some hard (death of my dad, which precipitated the move), and some meh (selling a house, renovating a house) - but all consuming of mental bandwidth.  My friend has had a different year for sure - she met the love of her life - but still a year that brought a lot of change.  We were remarking that sometimes the best gift you can give yourself is space.  This year I took some space away from creating new jewelry or forging ahead to new places with my business, because I just needed some bandwidth for The Year of Change.  And I'm glad I did.  Frankly it wouldn't have made much difference if I'd approached this year with grace or with ire, because I just didn't have more to give anyway.  And I certainly didn't always succeed in the grace department - although I figured out that I had a way better chance of carrying some grace forward if I also put yoga into the equation.  So while I didn't have any new products for a while, I do have some nifty new arm balances - and now I can feel the equilibrium coming back, some space to get back to my regularly scheduled program. I'm happy to start feeling some normal, but also incredibly grateful that I had the gift of space.

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Yoga Down the Third Base Line

Summertime means baseball in this family - which is funny since pre-child neither Clark nor I had anything to do with baseball.  But the boychild loves baseball, and we love the boychild, so by the transitive property we now love baseball.  Well, pretty much - at the very least we attentively watch a lot of baseball.  

But while the boychild loves baseball, I love yoga (and running, and mountain biking, and, and, and... but I digress.)  So today found us at a ballfield in Morganton, NC, and me with no yoga class in sight.  Which is how I found myself down-dogging and taking a vinyasa in the grass behind a maintenance shed and beside a horseshoe court (did you even know those existed? Me neither.) 

There's nothing like trying to find your zen while simultaneously trying to be invisible.  I didn't want Sam to have to break his pre-game concentration to explain why his mother is upside down in the grass while everyone else's mother is sitting on the bleachers.  

So there I was, in my little hidden spot under a giant tree, taking a Cody App yoga class, and it was actually blissful.  And also comical - trying to get your yoga on while hiding at a ballfield is pretty much what parenthood is all about.

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