Distance: Small Home Yoga
All photos San Francisco, 10 a.m.and throughout the day
The San Francisco fog brings with it different permissions than other summer places.
Read, allow your yoga to be restorative, spend afternoons in movie theaters or the opera all these are fine it says.
When you go out cover yourself in cashmere and down thankful you don't have to make peace with your body in a bathing suit or even shorts. (Because who after a certain age can do that anyway? After a while bodies call for coverage, protection, presentation that becomes it). Simple, calm movement is nice. Peaceful walking and swimming, kayaking and rowing in tranquil waters, yoga of the mindful type.
Certainly during our foggy summers we rail against the grey cold and constant winds. There are thoughts of neighbors in sun just across bridges, down on the peninsula, or away on airplanes. There are wishes for even, golden tans even though that's not how our bodies actually react to the sun any more. We remember thunderstorms while forgetting tornadoes or thick breathless heat,or sleeping porches that don't do the trick, or all the stinging insects and plants, the barking ill trained dogs, the over-clouds overhanging for days in a row, daylight that doesn't quit until hours past bedtime. Mostly though those warm, balmy free days really are the best of times and memories, no question.
But, here in San Francisco the fog brings different summer permissions, and it works out best when you can accept the deep interior pleasures they have to offer.