Dogs are my favorite animals. They always have been and always will be. I know its not very exotic or original, but I think they are very comforting. I guess because I find this blog to be all about honesty, I want to be able to say that one day--Summer 2006, I bought a puppy and I named her Molly. I bought her in the American Kennel Club dog shop on 62nd and Lex, where all the cute Upper East Siders buy the dogs that fit in their Louis Vuitton purses. She was $1000, not including the fact that she needed a doctor, and all of her stuff that I had to buy too.
An Israeli woman sold her to me, and I think influenced my purchase dramatically. They cleaned her up and tied a pink bow in her hair and I brought her home. I was terrified but so excited. She was so cute and I couldn't help but fall in love immediately. After a short time, give it three days of hell, I realized that my full-time and sometimes unconventional work schedule was completely ill-suited for a puppy. Crying and upset, I got into a cab and took Molly uptown to the dog store, where I lost half my money and all of my dignity as I handed her back, crying. The woman glared at me as I handed it to the clerk, saying "You should probably think about things before you do them." What a saleswoman.
I shouldn't have cared what she thought about the puppy, but I felt awful. I had abandoned a friend. We all knew that a cute puppy from an upscale store would find a home soon enough in a giant penthouse, but it took another two months before I could in all good conscience walk down that block. This made it very difficult to get to my grad school at night, as I had to bypass it on the way from the subway.
My point is both that the dog helped me, and that the dog is an example of what I am still trying to attain. She helped me by keeping me from being lonely, from being a nice companion, and by bringing a smile to my face. She hurt me because I did what I always do, and thought that I could take care of everything and everyone, even though I very well could not. I can't help but think about this sometimes in Yoga while I am practicing my downward dog position.
This position is something you have to do, on average, 20 times in Yoga class. Its unavoidable. Its like how every morning, you have to get up and pee even though its not time to get out of bed yet. Like that. I have found that downward dog is where I feel at my most calm, even though I am not very good at it yet. Aside from it giving me a good stretch, it allows me to try and perfect it. I know what a perfect downward dog is supposed to look like, and so I have some goal to attain. I also can feel my own flexibility level. At the beginning of class, I am completely sore and stiff. By the end, Down dog feels like just as much work as everything else, but it is something I can do--its something I have developed throughout the class.
Today I am realizing that maybe its ok to not be able to do things you thought you could--have a puppy at the age of 21, have the perfect down dog in Yoga class, have a perfect econ presentation where your palms don't sweat. Either way, I am trying to recognize these things. All of the things I have read about Yoga have told me that the first step to uncovering yourself is knowing yourself. I miss that dog, but I hope one day I can have all sorts of things in my life that I can take care of -- as well as myself. For right now, I am starting with me.
No comments:
Post a Comment