Club1670: The Studio

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The nesting in 2020 and so far in 2021 has been serious. And it’s happening all over the globe. We are spending more time than likely ever before at home. And we are getting comfortable.

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I had no idea when I bought my Reston condo in September 2003 that I would be here for so long. Always a nomad, I just knew I needed to own something. Then, this is what I could afford in 2003. It is, still, what I can afford now.

I’ve made some enhancements over the years: the bathroom, the kitchen. The washing machine, twice. The HVAC. Nothing too fancy. The necessities. And paint. Lots of paint.

Enough to make it a cute and decent pied-à-terre. A safe haven.

And definitely a place for dance parties. In fact, the name Club1670, for those inquiring minds, comes from the mid-2000s era. A period in which I hosted many gatherings that would without-a-doubt turn into a dance party in my living room. A few times resulting in Fairfax County police knocking at my door, to “please keep it down” after 10PM.

Today, you can always swing by Club1670 if you are itching to cut a rug. I’ll definitely be here and into it.

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I never thought of doing much else here, other than leveraging its function and location as a welcomed transition area to settle in between this other place and the next trip. Until March 15, 2020. I closed the door behind me that evening, knowing I would have to get real comfortable here. I wasn’t going anywhere for a while. I would need to make upgrades.

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Somehow, through the madness of 2020, I’ve managed to create, amongst other things, something new in this 1100 square-foot flat: a yoga studio. Something I have always wanted. Thanks to a new floor, a new back and a new hobby, I’ve returned to an old practice.

This is a far departure from the Dog Dog Yoga days. It’s even very different than the Beloved Yoga days. It’s a new beginning. A rediscovery of my practice. I think it’s Brené Brown I recently heard talk about having a strong back, a soft heart and a wild heart. That’s what I am cultivating here.

These days, the practice here is short, slow and grounded.

It’s surrounded by plants. Constant reminders not only of the possible growth, but also of the necessity to root.

Rays dominate my reading materials: my mantras are Ray Dalio’s Principles; my education is still Ray Long’s Key Muscles of Yoga, from my 2009 yoga teacher training curriculum.

There is love, light and and everything else that makes my practice a welcomed refuge, almost everyday.

The teacher is often Adriene. But most of the time, it’s me. Moving both intuitively and intentionally. Under the ironic divine supervision of both Ganesha, remover of obstacles and Nataraja, the cosmic dancer.

Namaste.