Today I realized that I know more friends who deal with anxiety than friends who don't--how f*cked up is that? Who knew? And why are so many people suffering from it? Anxiety is one of those nasty issues that people avoid bringing up unless someone else brings it up first, but once the floodgates are opened, the words come rushing out in a shared vocabulary of personal, pent up conflict. In some ways it's embarassing, admitting how unsure you feel about life in general: The 4am wakeups, bolt upright in bed, heart pounding. The palpitations and freakouts at work. The invisible appetite, scattershot diet, and nausea. Good times.
The other night, Renate and I went to a beginner's class here. It was so peaceful--a sunny room full of cushions and people looking for a little mental silence. We did some walking meditation that was literally just putting one foot in front of the other-- the quintessential first step in a discipline that I hope to have the willpower to practice regularly.
I've been thinking a lot lately about trying mysore. The thing is, when I'm not super anxious I am so not a morning person. It's a huge commitment, one that I've contemplated for a long time and I don't want to do if I can't be sure I can go at least 3 times a week. It might be time to stop thinking, suck it up and GO.