I think that, after nearly four years away from a weekly yoga practice, it’s time to resume going to class.

After four years of not practicing the skill regularly, the ability to relax with deep yoga breaths is starting to wear off.

My shoulders seem to be permanently around my ears.

My jaw is always clenched, even when I’m asleep.

I have an ongoing headache.

I want a disciplined class again. I want an instructor who corrects your position with the lightest fingertip touch so that you immediately know that your back is not, in fact, yet flat. I want a room filled with camraderie and silence as everyone finds their own boundaries and paths. I want to begin with breathing together as one and sun salutations and to end with corpse pose and namaste and a bow.

And, luckily, I can have that. I live in a hip section of town where yoga studios practically surround the Burrow. It’s just a matter of valuing myself enough to get off my butt and walk three blocks to partake in the next class. Here’s hoping I move in that direction soon.