The end of the trail

I’ve posted the last two days of my pilgrimage so that’s it. So as M succinctly put it, “You’ve walked it, you’ve blogged it. It’s all done and dusted.”

I quietly close a door in my life…and then I pull another open one with…

Yoga lessons.

Yes, I’ve signed up for a six week introduction to Ashtanga for noobs that starts this Wednesday. I’m thinking the theme for this year will be, “Mindfulness and pain.” I’m as stiff as a block of wood (not a euphemism) and I wish there was a pill you could take that would magically make you limber, but there isn’t so I’m sure it will be interesting to see just what I can’t do.

The yoga is, of course, another attempt by me to prepare myself for rope workshops in July (which is like Christmas in July, but with less Christmas.)

Speaking of yoga, I’ve been seeing a lot of talk about how ‘white people need to stop saying namaste’. I’m guessing it’s yoga snobs saying that because they don’t like their  ‘edgy’ past-time suddenly become a thing for the masses and that the commercialism of it rubs people up the wrong way. I think it’s a little bit akin to what has been happening in kink circles.

It’s just getting harder and harder to be edgy these days. I know I don’t like it when every other tv show and movie these days is trying to slip some sort of bdsm into the story line just so they can keep up with the cool kids. And I do like to think that I was into Japan before it became cool and accessible. Does that make me a kink and Japan snob?

Probably.

It also probably just means that I’m an old fart.

And speaking of old farts, I watched Deadpool tonight and I realised that there are so many references in that movie that anyone much under the age of 40 is just not going to appreciate and my mind was slightly blown.