Namaste

My head was spinning this morning while I was waiting for the train and bumped into a friend of a friend. We met a few years back at our mutual friend's house and I vaguely remember bonding over some talk about hating our fathers and agreeing that there's no better tasting food in the universe than a barbecued hot dog.

When the train pulled in, he asked if I wanted to sit together and I said sure because I couldn't think of another answer fast enough, so we started in with the usual small talk. He happened to mention something about doing yoga, which I found kinda interesting because, as you know, I've been more than a little stressed lately and have been looking for a better way (yes, even better than this Doctor Woo-ing) to help me cope.

So I asked how he got into it in the first place and he explained that it was several years ago and he was in a relatively bad place in his life, although it turned out that the place was Hawaii, which didn't much matter because he was clinically unhappy and drinking heavily. Anyway, he's walking on the beach one morning and pulls over a lounge chair and sitting on top of it is a magazine, opened up to a page about a famous yoga instructor who lives in Turks and Caicos (obviously, this guy is loaded) and he said he didn't know if it was destiny or what, but he went to visit the yogi dude and a few private lessons later was hooked for life.

I said that maybe meeting on the train this morning would be my "open magazine on the beach in Hawaii" epiphany and he smiled and said, "Namaste."