I was stepping down the stairs in anticipation of the yoga I was about to enjoy. My brother was playing the radio loudly enough for me to hear it from the stairs. There was a song on that I’ve heard so many times during the week. Every time I hear it, I immediately want to dance to it. I stopped, listened and thought, “My God, I have to ask my brother what that song is called.”
Eight steps later I had completely forgotten my need to know the name of the song because it was yoga time and I do love my yoga time. Also, my brain is made of Swiss cheese and sometimes very important thoughts just roll/evaporate/fall right out. Twenty minutes later, as my forehead touched the ground for child’s pose, I suddenly remembered: I forgot to ask about that song!
So I asked my brother, who was exercising beside me, what the song was called. He asked me when I heard it. I told him, and he then asked how it went. As I lifted my hips up into downward facing dog and balanced courage with acceptance (something my DVD instructor reminds me of every eight seconds, much to my displeasure and annoyance), I hummed it.
I might as well have birthed an alien from my rear end. At least that would have been more deserving of the look of complete confusion and horror he gave me. I sang the tune four more times before he told me the name of a song.
I’m pretty sure the jerk just pulled any old song out of his brain just to get me to stop singing. Well, it worked. I went upstairs at the end of my routine and youtubed the song title he gave me.
That wasn’t it. The feeling of hopelessness only lasted a moment–I realized I could easily just look on the radio station’s website. I looked on the list of their last ten songs, and searched each one on youtube. No luck. I turned to their mile-long playlist. I started at number eleven and started searching again. I had a moment of devastating panic when I thought for a moment it might be a Selena Gomez song, but it turned out not to be the one. Thank God.
Half an hour later, I finally reached number fifty-one. The song matched, and I rejoiced with dancing and half-singing (I don’t know the words well enough yet). After the euphoria of actually finding what had been gnawing away at my brain for DAYS, I realized I probably shouldn’t tell everyone this story.
Naturally, I thought you guys might enjoy it. Moral of the story? Triangle pose is very hard to hold when you are trying to hum and focus on the breath at the same time.