To bacon the dog: Verbing 101

Telluride Daily Planet, Sunday, August 17, 2014

“Come up into mountain pose, slowly rolling up one vertebra at a time, and then cactus your arms out as you go into mini-backbend.” Front range outdoor yoga instructor, August 10

Pursuant to a 10 a.m. class on the grass, I find cannot stop cactusing my arms, it feels so good.

This particular move semi-skies me upward and then bananas me into more peace and tranquility. Which is the whole point, n’est-ce pas?

I yoga as frequently as I can, whether indooring or outdooring, though never frequently enough. During every session I water frequently, as has been hurricaned at us by the instructors over and over again. Can’t forget to water! True that: because we prune if left unwatered — we parch. Also we are asked to balloon in and out with our powerhouses or cores or lower dan tians, and then to outbreath the toxins.

I’m Prousting on that class now, I know. Because when we opened, after the initial intentioning, the brilliant, blue sky umbrella’d above us, clouds breaking apart, I had a sort of mini-breakthrough, maybe with the mini-backbend, I don’t know. After the first series — so heavily forested with cactusing — I cleared. I mean, really cleared. I third-eyed the instructor and hearted her, for sure. I think a lot of other people did, too. They must have.

A couple of dogs in the audience of about 50 or 60 banana’d as well. Curiouser and curiouser! They did not so much downward-dog as shivasana. The instructor, microphoning on, even though you could see she was canine-charmed, paused and momented. “Continuing to intention, we series two.“ We all telephone-poled up, then mountained, hungry-baby-birding the next series.

Yeah, well, I actually forgot what my intention was. Then all of a sudden it super-balled back into consciousness. Boing, amethysting at my crown chakra, it was back. So simple, how could I forget it? “Peace the space you’re in,” was my active intention. Peace her, peace him, peace the air. I peaced everything a couple times with some cinnamon flavored breaths at my disposal. (I had Altoided before class.)

Anyway, then one dog labradoodled in the grass, eyes practically loopdalooped back in her (his?) head. She (he?) got prana’d, for sure. Some days are like this, both for dogs and people. They metaphor into something really big: they lake, with flat, taught surfaces and deep pools below. Then they droplet, so that every piece holograms, reflecting grandeur and beautiful complexity.

While series two-ing, we cactus [If it’s more than one of us, do we cacti?] our arms up again, and I slyly lighthouse the crowd of about 50 or 60. Everyone is third-eyeing the instructor, attentioning super well. We are one, bodies tidepooling.

A vendor ice-cream-trucks by, music-boxing as it goes. That labradoodling dog (which happens to be a blue heeler, actually), cheetahs off after the truck and its owner yells, “Camilla Parker!” (which smiley-faces me). Camilla, pause-buttoning briefly, eventually can’t help herself and lightning bolts to the truck at which point the driver, not missing a beat, bacons the dog! Brilliant!

I sticky-note the moment, felt-tipping the word “delight” in a scrawl. I front-lobe it, and then return to peacing this, that, and the other thing because that’s my intention and I plan to use it. Because, listen, peacing things magic wands them, for sure.

Camilla Parker, back on the grass—- and baconed and banana’d into bliss — shivasanas right near the instructor who, having lotused us, lowers herself to the ground and homing-pigeons the dog’s head with her hand. Makes me want to homing-pigeon that cute Camilla and bacon her myself. Makes me want to bacon everyone. I harp yoga. I harp feeling uplifted.

Lotusing as best we can, then shivasana’ing, we eventually finish-line the class and trough up to our water bottles, as per the rules.

Not just me but some of the others, as well, mountain pose up and cactus our arms as if it cannot be helped. Mini backbending, we swallow a bit of the blue sky. Perfection. A tinkling bell ensues with ice-cream-truck man vendoring his way back to the park where at least half a dozen people myself included apostle him. We are his followers at the moment, his fans.

Lazily creamsicling my way back to my mat and bottle and towel, I sticky-note another delicious moment in time, message-boarding my brain, because it’s what I do. “Wonderful!” I Crayon in the word, this time, in blue-green. And as an added element, I saguaro in a sketch.

This is just simply to remind myself to cactus my arms whenever I’m Darthed or down for whatever reason. Because I find it works.


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