|
Until two years ago I had no patience for yoga. Maybe it was the fact that I didn’t feel the immediate endorphin rush and sweaty sense of accomplishment that I got from a hard run. Maybe I felt claustrophobic exercising inside with my mat next to strangers with bare feet, some in dire need of a good pedi. Maybe I was easily frustrated because my body would not obey my commands to bend and behave. For whatever reason, most likely all of the above, I typically abandoned yoga shortly after adding “Do more yoga” to my yearly list of resolutions.
A yoga studio, especially a good one, is a rare zone where people of all ages and body types can be in one place and be totally at ease with themselves and each other. The seventy year old next to me might look like a dancer, moving fluidly from one pose to the next, while my thirty-something body creaks and halts. Another person might be as immovable as a statue holding a pose, while it appears that I am in the throes of a personal earthquake. His downward dog might look like a triangular tower of grace, while mine looks like I’m teetering on stilettos. She might glide in a silent leap to the front of her mat, while I flop crookedly like a hooked fish on the deck of a boat. She might look like she stepped out of an ashram, while I remain trapped in a bad rendition of the ‘teapot’ song. He might know all the terminology for the postures; meanwhile I keep hearing words like chimichanga as I peer around the room, desperately trying to copy the person next to me. I have never done a backbend, inversions make me want to vomit, and I will never get used to people passing gas without shame or laughter. But these things don’t matter.
Once I got over myself and committed to regular attendance, I realized that the teachers were serious when they referred to yoga as a practice. I fell in love with that idea, the innate acceptance of imperfection and inconsistency and the liberating concept that each person is practicing their own thing at their own rate. The practice is in the discipline of showing up, being present, and trying… over and over again. I love how the instructors always have a nugget of wisdom, a spiritual to-go box, to carry home and snack on later. I love the mindfulness, the conscious act of limiting thought traffic and endless to-do’s in order to inhabit the moment and form a more substantial to-be.
Before class begins, I unroll my mat and towel and stretch out on my own private island, noticing my heart rate and my breathing which always seem to register like I’ve been chased into class, pounding with the pulse of the day. But I breathe and settle in and a rare truce is made between my body, mind and spirit. The instructor often asks us to set an intention for the class, anything positive or productive as an offering for our time and effort, for ourselves or for someone else. Aside from improvements in flexibility, balance, peace, and concentration, this may be my favorite benefit. I have incorporated intention setting in more than just my yoga class. I set an intention before I wake up, before I have an important meeting or conversation, before a speech, before a run, before I write, before I spend time with my children, family or friends. Being more deliberate with the expenditure of my time and my energy has made me more mindful of the person I’m being while I’m doing what I do. These days, when I don’t know what else to do, I breathe in and out until what comes next is revealed.
There are fresh opportunities for all of us in the New Year, a chance to finally make peace with who and where we are and be comfortable in our own skin, a chance to let go of the things that are holding us back, a chance to look fear in the face and take that risk, a chance to be fully present in the moments of our life, a chance to set some intentions, and a chance to follow through. Namaste.
|
