Except For The Ants

I swept out of the parking lot and waved to the volunteer behind the Admissions Counter as I walked through the gate and into the park, up one lane and down another and around and around the I-never-remember-which-path-to-take route to Outdoor Yoga.  It was a trip which took no time at all, which required no rest stops, which left me bemoaning my lack of endurance but otherwise unencumbered with negativity.  

Nothing hurt.

When Taos Bubbe and I were doing this last winter, the trek was an obstacle.  Today, my yogi didn't recognize me until I was close enough for her to see my face.  From a distance, my gait had not identified me.  I wasn't galumphing; I was walking.

We hugged and admired my newfound abilities and thanked science and then I strolled into the event space and unrolled my mat.  I was careful to avoid bending in half, but getting organized was simple and easy and felt great.  We started standing up, going through variations of warrior pose and moving through tree.  

Doing tree pose outdoors, surrounded by trees, was truly wonderful.  Balancing on my damaged leg was even better.  And then we sat down.

On the way to my mat I looked over at my Kiziks.  Lots of little black ants were dancing around the mesh tops and down into the insoles and they were also all over my thankfully zippered purse.  I interrupted my graceful descent and began shaking and brushing and generally removing unwelcome guests from my possessions.

My mat had one lone invader, who was quickly dispatched.  We did some work sitting up on our mats, so pest control was fairly simple.  They came in one by one and were dealt with promptly.  They were a minor distraction.  The breeze was wafting, the sun was shaded by the leaves, and we were embracing clarity and radiant health.  

It was perfect.  Except for the ants.