I never really got into Radiohead in the 90’s. There’s no justifiable reason why. Maybe because my brother liked them and I assumed our high school age tastes were too different to have any blurring or overlap of edges. Maybe his homemade “goth kid” t-shirt (which I now sometimes wear to bed) opposed my Abercrombie wardrobe in such stark contrast that, in my mind, there could be no room or hope for commonality. Mayhaps, sadly, I was simply too jazzed up on Kilo Ali and Tupac to enjoy the heart-tugging stylings of Thom Yorke. In any case, I’m playing catch-up now.
I do yoga in a hot, dark room with candles and mind-blowingly loud, encompassing music. I do it to hip-hop and electro and 70’s rock and beautiful acoustic and thick drums and everything in between. I do it to Regina and Radiohead, and every now & then, I do it with tears.
Drenched in sweat, bending and opening everything I’ve ever held tight, heart pounding, muscles strong, moving with deep breath and the beat of the music, somehow it all comes together in the pit of my being, and overflows. Tears-sweat-breath-movement-up-down-lunge-open-twist-breath. Amazing.
What am I crying about? The easy answer is Nothing in Particular. The other answer is Everything.
Pure Emotion- neither happy nor sad- is a rarity in everyday life, and Cathartic is the closest English word I know to describe it.
Every song I yoga to takes on a deeper meaning, and every day my heart sings louder.
