I’ve been lying around a lot. Anyone who truly knows me will doubt this as a real fact, but it is, nevertheless, true.
I have two yoga bolsters. I pile them on top of each other and lie on my stomach for, say, 30 minutes or so (asana: balasana). Then I take the pile apart, prop my knees up on blocks, lean my back on the big bolster, strap my legs to keep the soles of my feet tight together (asana: supta baddha konasana). Then I put my legs up the wall (asana: viparita karani). Then I go to sleep like a corpse (savasana).
So, I’m lying around a lot. But, as my title says, the thing is, being on floor level for an hour or two a day mostly makes me notice that the carpet needs to be vacuumed or that there’s dust and pollen coating what from standing look like gleaming wood floors. I lie on my stomach, looking at the lint and threads on the carpet. The carpet is navy, and I also see that it is kind of matted down and old, and it shows lint horribly. I look at my pale hand, slightly curled up. Then I look at the carpet again. I think about vacuuming and I don’t move. Then I marvel that I’m not moving. I think of my German mother’s anal higiene (she vacuumed at least 3 times a day…she had 6 kids and our house looked like something out of a magazine). I think about vacuuming again. Then I think that it’s been my turn to vacuum for about a month, but my partner keeps doing it and I keep letting her. Then I close my eyes and lie there some more.
These are my profound thoughts about which I do nothing while restoring myself with yoga.
Sometimes I do think about hiding more Snoopy stickers where my partner can’t see them.
And sometimes I think I may never move again and why did I ever want to be an unstoppable force, a go-getter, a shaker and a mover (all things people have called me throughout my life) in the first place.
Sometimes I think about getting up and then I don’t.
Or I get up. And then I make homemade ice cream and eat it. I look at the carpet and I don’t vacuum it.
I think this is ahimsa. It could also be called extreme laziness, but I’m convinced it’s somehow spiritual. Because I am watching the anal cleanliness thoughts come and go and not cleaning, and that’s got to be worth something.
(My partner’s like, “Yeah, it’s worth hiring a cleaning lady, oh Queen of the Universe.”)