A Quantum Character Journey

Be honest, he said. Picture your character in the past, in the present, and in the future. When I saw the course announcement I mistook it as a quantum journey, but it was really an organic path into truth, radical truth.

I do not know what to title this piece other than “A Quantum Character Journey” — here goes nothing (or everything) …

This hot yoga stuff is making her sick. How much more she’d rather stop at the wine store, pick up a bottle and slide it back to ease anxiety.

Oh my goodness a woman next to her is moaning in ecstasy. What’s so pleasurable about feeling like you’re in Miami in July and bending in unnatural positions?

She feels some of last night’s chardonnay come up and burn her throat.

Nope. This is not working. It’s back to the store.

But she promised.

Yeah, she did that a lot. Make and break promises and beg forgiveness. What’s the scripture about forgiveness? Jesus said to forgive 7 times 70 times. That’s one she’s leaned on quite a bit . She might possibly be approaching the 490 mark.

Ay, the burning. It’s bubbling up exactly like the time she waited for her college roommate at the salon.

She had to vomit in the bathroom. But she was an amateur drinker. Now she knows exactly when to stop.

Except for the heartburn, that’s hard to gauge. It’s really burning too.

Oh wait, here it—

She rushes to the rest room. Of course the rest room has to be right near the salon chairs.

How does one vomit silently? She turns on the water to hush it. And with each eruptive heave she flushes the toilet to further mute the abdominal roars.

No, no, no, this is not the salon! It’s the yoga studio.

“Am I still drunk?”

What part of her thought this was a good idea? She finishes her last heave when a knock and a whisper appear, “Are you okay?”

Wiping her face, “Um, yes, I just, I ate something … compromised.”

She goes to the sink and splashes cool water on her face as she rinses her mouth and spits, then wipes her face with one of the crazy clean face towels infused with lemon.

This was too nice for her. “I’m not worthy, or ready … both really.”

As she stood looking in the mirror, the yoga teacher appealed to her through the door, thanking her again for the investment in the studio, and offering her a one-on-one session “to, you know, address anything specific you may need.”

“I’m fine, thank you.” She was nothing if not stoic, as she spotted redness in the water swirling down the drain in the sink after her final spit.