Yoga

 

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Yoga is is not for wimps.  I have been congratulating myself on being comfortable in my Pilates class.  I go to a class in a nice yuppie neighbourhood.  Lots of young women, some of them dancers attend.  And I keep up. . . . mostly.  When I don’t I blame it on my artificial hip, my 67 years are a good excuse too.  I can do roll-ups, balance on a huge ball and squeeze. . . oh, never mind.  I’m good in that class.  Only problem is, it’s a little bit pricey, so I thought I’d look around my neighbourhood and see what else was out there.  Turns out the local Y had a special for oldies like me.  For three months I can go to any class I like and it only cost $64.  So, I signed up and went tonight to my first class.  It was yoga.  Oh boy, I knew I was in trouble when I noticed sweat dripping onto the rather ratty mat -I’ll be bringing my own next time.  There will be a next time because I know this is a good practice, but it is h.a.r.d.  That downward dog thing?  Who knew it led to a plank and then a cobra. . . Well. At least now I know what to expect.  Oh, and the others in the class?  Some are guys with hairy legs who have the whole process down pat.  Somehow I like it better in the class with the dancers where I can fantasize that if I keep at it long enough I might hold that enormous ball and roll it between my heels and my toes.  How Western of me!  I must delve into the philosophy of the East so I can be a tranquil human corkscrew.

Montreal sculpture

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It was quite hot today.  OK, OK, I’m not complaining. I was out and about a bit – under that warm Montreal sky and I saw a couple of interesting sculptures.  SInce even as I write, “that” game is taking place I thought the first picture was a nice one to post,  That rather grim guy on the steps of the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts is on of the Burghers of Calais (not burgers, you philistines) – you know, a sort of town councilor.  You can see he’s holding the keys to the city.  You can just look up the story on Wikipedia.  Anyway, you can also see a nice Canadiens’ flag taped to his hand.  I was surprised and touched that it stayed up there.  The second sculpture is close to the corner of St. Denis and Sherbrooke where I go for my Pilates class.  Believe me, I almost turned into a statue myself in that killer class.  I love Pilates.  It’s the only form of exercise I have been able to stick to.  I think it’s because most of it is performed lying down.  Anyway, I think this sculpture is very interesting in that the artists ( there are two – a brother and sister from Quebec City and darm, I have forgotten their names) have portrayed a father and son supposedly reflected in the water in the bottom half of the sculpture.  That is quite an ambitious project, I think.  I must say I think, in the main, they have pulled it off.  Interesting what you see if you open your eyes around town.  Off downstairs to watch the rest of the game.  At one point I was outside and heard two great cheers from people in the neighborhood.  It has been a little quiet lately.  I wonder what that means.  A demain, darlings.

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