Well, you stay in the present moment.

I take a noon yoga zoom class with Betsy, and she is up in the corner of my iPhone, which is broken up into four little screens.  So it's hard to follow along, but I make mental note of the poses to learn and how to do them and what purpose, the isometric stretches.  I don't feel very hot going into it, and I start perspiring.

My mind is thinking about a lot of things, including going down the Bicycle Pro Shop on M Street near the car barn and Key Bridge.  Errands, you feel stupid about them these days.  And with time away from employment, you discover things you like to do, should have spent more time at, the things you let go, out of foolishness and desires that turn out to be false.

But I stay up to late speaking with an old girlfriend back from my hometown, and this too makes me feel sorrowful for missing out on bonding with an intelligent woman with fine sensibilities.  She appreciated my father, calling him a rocker.   I stayed up late talking with her.  She was part of a sort of punk band in Belgium for a good life once.  She was a good singer.

Errands make me nervous.  The times make me nervous.  Money makes me nervous.  Not knowing exactly what to do makes me nervous.

Feeling slightly better, having dressed for the greater mission of the bicycle, which also needs a new bottom bracket at some point, the mechanic tells me, I go out and down across the street to the little deli and my friend there, Helene, is present and greets me with her friendliness and hospitality, and I get little containers of tuna and curried chicken salad, a little bit of low sodium chicken breast sliced, so I can eat something before I take the walk down to Georgetown.

My heart is unhappy though.  I feel I've dishonored my father somehow.  And when this happens, the yoga must be good.  A walk, keeping moving must be good, to quell anxieties.