There are at least eight seals that sun themselves on the float of logs in the marina west of Lonsdale. Somehow they heave their cumbersome bodies out of the water and onto their makeshift platforms. They wobble and teeter and then stop in locust pose. They look ridiculous with their tails and arms in the air, their tummies the only point of contact. I wonder if I look as ridiculous on my mat in locust as those seals on their logs? I’m inclined to think I do.