Benefits of Obessiveness (Visiting Parents)

 

December Eve in FL

Sometimes it’s good to have lifelong obsessions.    One of these times is a visit to parents.   My parents are, frankly, pretty undemanding.  And yet there is something amazing about how time, plans, routines slip away when I visit them.  To some degree, this is exactly as it should be, since I really am here to spend time with them, not to write (i) a novel (ii) or blog (iii) or tax memo, or (iv) to hang out extensively at the beach.

And yet…  and yet… there is also something about the atmosphere of the parental home (and I don’t think it’s just my parents’ home) that seems to crumple discipline, will, even in those moments in which we are not actively “visiting”.  (I find myself, in other words, reading old Readers’ Digests late at night.)

These are moments when even more deeply ingrained obsessive conduct is very welcome.  In my case, it’s a mania for exercise.

I’m not systematic or forceful enough for true fitness.  But I have, since my teenage years, been pretty obsessive about moving my body around every day, shaking things up, as it were.

I can’t somehow do my regular yoga practice in Florida.  Astanga yoga is a practice involving a fair amount of bouncing (jump-throughs) and it doesn’t really work on carpeting (rug burns), or concrete (fractured wrists), or even sand (sand).  (And then, of course, there’s that whole will/discipline problem here.)

But running around on dark streets lit with Christmas lights works pretty well.  Even an occasional Tree pose.

Thank goodness.

 

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