Massage therapist: “You can’t relax, can you?”
Me: “Nope.”

There once was a time when I would have been a puddle of goo at that point in a massage, barely able to utter any response at all. Not this time. I was still pretty well amped.

So I go home, download a new yoga session – not realizing at the time that it focused on a core workout – and settle in for a bit of stretch and breathe. That ought to be relaxing, right? Well, yoga chick comes on and proceeds to kick my butt. Down dog, leg-up and back, then knee to the belly, leg back up, then knee to the elbow. Now the other side! OK, now down to plank. Over now and into boat pose! Legs down now and hold them two inches off the floor for five, four, three, two…….Damn!

Off goes the computer and I go straight into shavasana (also known as corpse pose), lying flat on my back with arms to the side. What can be more relaxing than that? Until listitis sets in. You know, listitis? The mental compiling of lists of things that have to be done a) now b) before Monday morning or c) sometime during the next work week. Topics are arranged like cards in a deck, traded about between various categories, prioritized and then, finalized. Oh, yeah, I think. I was supposed to be conscious of my breathing through all of that. Mental note to self: Next time, remember to breathe!

With lists completed I roll up the yoga mat and noticed my dog stretched out on the floor across the room, snoozing away. He gets the occasional scratch behind the ear, a stroll around the block, a couple of cups of dry kibble a day and he’s as happy as a clam. “What’s your secret?”, I ask. He responds with a big, heaving sigh, never opening his eyes. Now that dude knows how to relax.