Mourning Comes in Light

It’s been awhile, eh? Nothing much to report here.

Like everyone else, I'm buying too many Pumpkin Spice Lattes, looking up soup recipes, excitedly breaking out boxes containing sweaters and boots, going on long fall walks to check out the explosion of red and orange from the mature trees around Lake of the Isles. I too am bemoaning that fall will soon be cut out by blizzards and below zero temperatures and snow emergencies that will make parking a nightmare. And of course, I’m being a fair weather fan and ragefully screaming for the Twins to snag the AL pennant from the evil Yankees.

The same old October news. October is a really comforting month in this way.

One thing is new- per my Bucket List to 30, I am dipping my big toe into yoga, meaning I’ve now taken exactly 3 classes at Corepower Yoga. I like the flow, the juxtaposition of emitting strength and sweat while maintaining a sense of calm. Finding focus on breath and being. I like when the beginner classes are filled with other beginners who fall out of poses and don’t have Madonna-esque pipes. I like that my instructor last night said "Deep breath and ... CHA-TA-RAN-GA!" a hundred times in a really theatrical but hushed tone.

But mostly? I like the music. Bon Iver, Sade, Joe Purdy, Ray LaMontagne, Brett Dennen, Zero 7 and all other Garden State soundtrack staples. Have I died and gone to musical heaven? In my class on Monday they played Sufjan Steven’s ‘For the Widows in Paradise, for the Fatherless in Ypsilanti’ during the first few minutes of class. From the comfort of my extended child’s pose, I realized I was prostrate while listening to a gorgeous song with a lot of religious imagery. It felt wonderful. This is like the religion I never had, I thought.

Then I saw this article. I find something I like, and the religious right assails that exact thing the next day?

Nothing new, indeed.