Kina led me in an extended Warrior I pose this morning. She was wearing her She-Ra outfit, including the brilliant crown and gauntlet we had thought were lost forever. Turns out She-Ra can get a pretty deep lunge in that front leg, due to her weighing very little and having rubber bands for muscles. I, on the other hand, have become brittle and awkward in the last twelve months and took the opportunity to just separate my legs for a minute or two. This is what it’s come to.

Once upon a time—before Kina came along—I was super diligent about doing yoga. Five days a week, friendly with the person at the desk, same spot in the classroom every day. It carried me through various bouts of anxiety, the founding and closure of my own business, a stretch of burnout at two separate companies, and the birth of a child. I took my last class there on March 12th, almost a year ago. The studio closed in the middle of the pandemic (obvs), but they moved to a new space and have started conducting classes online, but I have been so constantly and thoroughly drained for the last three hundred and fifty-five days of my life that I haven’t attended any. I keep thinking I will. I feel guilty about not doing it. I also feel guilty about doing it. It’s complicated.

Kina does not need yoga in the ways that I clearly do, but it’s fun to see her being so good at it without taking it seriously at all. As a teacher, she’s hard to ignore (She-Ra outfit, mismatched socks, right next to the bed), and so I might have to sign up for her classes. Five days a week, same spot every day. It’s the practice that matters—and the snacktime after.

dad