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 Posted: Tue Feb 26, 2013 1:52 pm
Ballet and Yoga, Paris decided, were nothing alike.
To a lot of people this was probably the obvious conclusion to draw, but it dawned on Paris slowly. When he initially took up Yoga a few months previously, he did so with an obvious lack of understanding. He used it for the benefits it could provide for his body—balance, core strengthening—far more than for the benefits it could provide for his mind, failing to grasp the idea that it was meant for both. The more he practiced it, the more he came into awareness, and he began to look at Yoga not as something to compliment his ballet training, but as a healthy reprieve from it.
He loved ballet, and though he could pretend that he wasn’t doing irreparable harm to his body in the process, and could deny it as readily, the fact remained that it was perhaps more physically intensive than the human body was made to endure. Adding the mental stress on top of that, the frequent thought of “I am not good enough” in spite of the confidence he often felt in his abilities and the satisfaction he took from such rigid discipline, ballet could, at times, seem like torture.
Yoga wasn’t like that at all.
He rolled up his mat after one of the classes he attended at a local studio three evenings a week, feeling calm and refreshingly relaxed. He made no move to rush out the door, but took his time sliding his mat into his bag, pausing afterwards for a drink of water. To a few familiar faces, he smiled and waved in farewell, fishing around for his phone and his keys as he mumbled a “bye” to one person and a “see you Wednesday” to another.
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Posted: Tue Feb 26, 2013 10:02 pm
"You're getting better," A warm, accented voice addressed Paris as he dug through his bag. If he looked up, he'd see Avery standing there, a hand on her hip with her bagged mat tucked under arm. A water bottle swung on her finger as her hazel eyes flicked over his slight frame. "Dancer?" Built like one.
Avery liked artists. They had passion for life.
The young woman had only been attending the sessions since January, the start of DCU's spring semester, but she'd been doing yoga for years, and could recognize progress. For her, it cleared away the hectic nature of her day-to-day, re-centered her and put her in tune with her own wants and needs. It also toned the hell out of her body.
She offered out her free hand. "Avery. Pleasure to meet you."
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Posted: Sun Mar 03, 2013 10:48 am
Paris glanced up with a broad smile both for the compliment as well as for the observation.
“Ballet,” he said.
He was perhaps neither skilled nor familiar enough with Yoga yet to determine whether or not he was getting better at it, but he certainly felt better these days, and he would readily attribute some of that to his recent foray into Yoga. It pleased him that someone else seemed to have noticed—as it pleased him when anybody paid any sort of positive attention to him—and he took a moment to look the young woman over. Her name was not familiar to him, but he was sure he’d seen her face at least a few times among the rest of the class.
“Paris,” he offered his name and his hand in return. “And thanks. I probably haven’t put as much time into it as I should, but I like it. God, it took me forever to get the breathing right, though. And I'd thought that would be the easy part."
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