April 6th, 18:17 | On the not-breathing front...
New theory about why I can't breathe.
So while it is possible that I was wasn't respecting the yogic gods Monday night, and managed to fuck myself up hardcore doing my pranayama wrong, it doesn't really seem reasonable to me. I mean, I'll be the first to admit that when it comes to the fancy breathing exercises, I, quite frankly, don't really know what I'm doing. But having said that, I've also been practising (for lack of a better word) unsupervised for about 5 years (on and off). So why would my poorly-managed prana (or "chi" for you non-yoga hippies) choose now to freak out?
No, I don't buy it. My new theory is that I actually did something right for once. I've been worried sick for weeks, stressed and in constant (or it felt that way) conflict with someone or other for a little while. I think the not-breathing was my body's way of telling me to Slow The Fuck Down Ferchrissakes.
(If any of you are rolling your eyes and thinking that this is all proof positive that I'm a hippie -- just stop right there. If you've never experienced the physical manifestation of an emotional or psychological issue, clearly you're some kind of well-adjusted, yet utterly soulless, golem.)
Anyway, this all culminated last night, when I felt flu-y and couldn't breathe, but seems to have mostly cleared itself up today, which is fantastic. I've never appreciated the smooth teamwork of my lungs and diaphragm quite as much as this morning, I think.
In other news, I've been rejected by one of the two teaching schools I applied to. But I also won free movie tickets, and got to attend a "your career is about YOU; now get off your ass and plan it" session all day yesterday. I guess it balances out, right?
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