What does your yoga practice say about you?

Date: 8 July

Location: One Hot Yoga, waiting for class with yogi-like patience (believable?)

Notable sightings: friends galore.

Dirty little secret: I don’t wash my yoga mat very often. I know, that’s gross right? Especially as it’s a mint green Lululemon towel mat and I do hot yoga on it several times a week. But it just has this comforting smell, rather like a mix of kitten fur, salt and vinegar chips and bed. Every time I’m in Child’s Pose I’m reminded of that intangible, beautifully elusive concept of ‘home’ — then, that I really should wash this thing because it’s a bit gross.

Now that I’m home from my adventures (for now), I literally have in idea what to do next. I know only two things: that quitting my Big Law job was the right decision for me, and that I need to now find a new one. Doing what! I don’t know. How? I don’t know. Where in the world? I don’t know.

In the meantime, and to the extent that my manically A-type personality, goal-oriented guilt will allow, (so somewhere between ‘Not As Much As I Should’ and ‘A Little, The Sleep Ins Are Nice’), I’ve had a week of doing precisely what I feel like doing.

In this, I’ll admit, it has not taken me long to settle into some fairly selfish ways. I’ve run late for an evening drink because the sole item on that day’s agenda — ‘take shower’ — was not yet complete. I’ve been irrationally annoyed when a friend wanted to catch up at 6.15pm, as that was the time of the one yoga class — of the ten on offer that day — that I’d vaguely decided to do. I’ve said no to a dinner invitation because I had yum food in my fridge, but only enough to cook for one.

There was that Monday where I did nothing but cook. Theoretically I’m now on dietary best behaviour following the Great Gorging that was our trip in The USA. I’m trying to swing my diet back to something that resembles the Paleo style diet. The Cliff Notes version of this approach is that you avoid most processed food, avoid grains and some dairy, and eat plenty of meat, seafood, eggs,vegetables and fruit. Essentially the opposite of what you eat on a US road trip. I cooked up a storm of Paleo-approved winter goodness: broccoli soup, bone broth, pulled pork, cruisy less quiche. I miss pizza.

There was a Thursday where I did almost nothing but drink. I met a friend for lunch at Richmond gastropub The Nash and we had wine, with a side of lunch. Around bottle number three of excellent Victorian pinot, I realised I had to meet my dad at a Credit Suisse networking function in twenty minutes. I’m sure I was all things charming.

There was that Friday where I did almost nothing but research work and volunteer opportunities in India. Getting the search terms right for that was a little tricky. Surprisingly enough, if you Google ‘Australian India job’ Google doesn’t seem to think you want to work in India but instead offers all sorts of ‘easy’ ‘quick’ and ‘guaranteed’ methods for getting out of India and getting to Australia.

This coming week I’m starting off right: my alarm went off at 8 (causing me no end of sleepy, panicky confusion: ‘what in God’s name is that?’), now for yoga, a good breakfast, a short, business-like flirt with my local barista, coffee and then lunches and meetings in the city to catch up and to look forward.



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