Morning
I’m one of those insufferable types known as a “morning person.”
I actually like to get out of bed early; here in the Northwest summer, when the sun rises before 6:00AM, I have no great aversion to waking at the crack of dawn. I like being up and out before most anyone else; it’s pleasant to be on my bike while the streets are still deserted, and it’s amusing to observe the world transitioning from night to day in various forms, especially the time-honored walk of shame.
That said, I do sometimes wonder why I do it, when I could just snuggle down in bed for another forty or more winks; here in July, especially, when my schedule is particularly lax, pretty much the main reason I do get up when I do is to head to yoga class, but of course, that gives rise to the further question, “why practice at all?” one which, not coincidentally, was sort of bedeviling me as worked my way through the Ashtanga primary series this morning.
It’s a question I’ve pondered before, and indeed, I think the pondering is part of the practice itself; still, it does seem sort of odd to have one’s main reason for rising from bed to be an activity for which practical justification itself remains wanting.
But maybe this puzzle is just an illustration of the essential absurdity of the human condition, in which we’re condemned to behave as if our lives have meaning in a Universe devoid of any real meaning; thus, while all the bending, breathing, and sweating I do while the rest of the world sleeps is as pointless as counting blades of grass all day long on the University of Washington quad, it’s incumbent upon me to behave as if doing so is essential to human happiness and perhaps even world peace.
On the other hand, maybe the whole reason is simply so I can relax in Savasana for 20 minutes.
I actually like to get out of bed early; here in the Northwest summer, when the sun rises before 6:00AM, I have no great aversion to waking at the crack of dawn. I like being up and out before most anyone else; it’s pleasant to be on my bike while the streets are still deserted, and it’s amusing to observe the world transitioning from night to day in various forms, especially the time-honored walk of shame.
That said, I do sometimes wonder why I do it, when I could just snuggle down in bed for another forty or more winks; here in July, especially, when my schedule is particularly lax, pretty much the main reason I do get up when I do is to head to yoga class, but of course, that gives rise to the further question, “why practice at all?” one which, not coincidentally, was sort of bedeviling me as worked my way through the Ashtanga primary series this morning.
It’s a question I’ve pondered before, and indeed, I think the pondering is part of the practice itself; still, it does seem sort of odd to have one’s main reason for rising from bed to be an activity for which practical justification itself remains wanting.
But maybe this puzzle is just an illustration of the essential absurdity of the human condition, in which we’re condemned to behave as if our lives have meaning in a Universe devoid of any real meaning; thus, while all the bending, breathing, and sweating I do while the rest of the world sleeps is as pointless as counting blades of grass all day long on the University of Washington quad, it’s incumbent upon me to behave as if doing so is essential to human happiness and perhaps even world peace.
On the other hand, maybe the whole reason is simply so I can relax in Savasana for 20 minutes.
posted by Professor Dave at 11:43 AM
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