For some reason I know that this will not be the only post about yoga....
I've tried yoga multiple times over the course of my life. When I lived in North Carolina I tried it but couldn't stop laughing at the total absurdity of the poses. When I moved back home, I went with my mother, and I will admit that my pride was a bit wounded when I realized that her "tree" was more stable,
and her "warrior 3" was more graceful, 
than mine.
(Images from yogaloungehudson.com)
So I, of course, decided that yoga wasn't for me. I couldn't relax. I couldn't balance. I couldn't stop laughing. And I most certainly could not meditate.
But I also wasn't Thirty-Something.
As I've worked to embrace my single status, I've begun to prioritize my body. I am not vain, but there are few other assets we have that are more important than our bodies. This casing has got to last! And I'd like for mine not only to last, I'd like it to be pretty darn cute well into my 80s. (I'll write about my naive idealism some other time.)
A few years ago I started by eating better and running more. Last year I took on sailing. And now, while I am beyond thrilled by the fact that most clothes tend to fit me, that I've progressed with my running well enough to win my age group in a few 5ks, and that I've developed a sense of stability and equilibrium that has increased my ability to navigate the foredeck of our sailboat confidently, I still slouch when I'm sitting and I have to remind myself to stand up straight constantly (If my mother doesn't beat me to it. Thanks, Mom.).
And so, after looking in a mirror for the umpteenth time and saying, once again, "if I'm not careful I'm going to begin to look like a potato with legs," I've decided it's time to do something about this core of mine. And possibly, in the meantime, add "meditative," "balanced," and "flexible" to my list of attributes.
At 7:30 am last Friday I began my yoga journey.
A kind-hearted friend responded to my request for ideas about what to wear, what to eat beforehand, and what to bring with an offer to come with me saying simply that "Sometimes it's nice to have a buddy for your first time." What? Did I sound desperate? Or out of my league? I guess so. I accepted her generosity and very much appreciate that she responded in a way that did not point out my apparently obvious ignorance.
And I am glad I did! For those of you not familiar with yoga, I will tell you that it's not for the faint of heart. These yoga gurus instruct you to jump and flip and stretch and pose into the most bizarre positions, all while you are trying to remember to breathe in (when they tell you to inhale) and breathe out (when they tell you to exhale). If you are not completely absorbed in your breathing or completely committed to not falling, you will think that you look pretty funny and you will laugh. (Which may be why I stunk at it before...)
The language of yoga is completely foreign. If someone said "Move to pigeon" before I tried yoga, I would probably look something like this:
(This is actually a picture of my brother's girlfriend--aka the funniest girl I know--pretending to be a pigeon in a park. Thanks, Ms. E!)
Not:
(From: http://yogini786.files.wordpress.com/)
(I, by the way, have not yet achieved this particular brand of pigeon....)
So, because the language is so different, and because the poses are not self-explanatory, I spent most of my time watching my own personal guru (THANK YOU, friend, for coming!) trying to mimic her, and trying not to blatantly stare at the crazy acrobat lady in the corner who I'm pretty sure was doing this:
(courtesy of YogaJournal.com)
We were definitely not asked to do that.
All the while, the lead guru was instructing us to breathe, and meditate, and allow ourselves to simply become "one" with our bodies. Someday. SOMEDAY, I will be able to meditate while doing this. (Sure.)
I am no longer making fun of yoga as I did when I was an immature twenty-something. Now, I honestly want to be able to do it. Women who practice yoga are strong, balanced women who often have a certain sense of peace and grace about them. I want peace and grace. I want to be strong and balanced. Oh, and I want a strong core and an upright carriage--which these yoga practicing women also possess! And, if I need to tangle myself into a pretzel and learn how to prop myself up on my pinky in order to get these things, I suppose that it's at least worth a try.
I've tried yoga multiple times over the course of my life. When I lived in North Carolina I tried it but couldn't stop laughing at the total absurdity of the poses. When I moved back home, I went with my mother, and I will admit that my pride was a bit wounded when I realized that her "tree" was more stable,
and her "warrior 3" was more graceful, than mine.(Images from yogaloungehudson.com)
So I, of course, decided that yoga wasn't for me. I couldn't relax. I couldn't balance. I couldn't stop laughing. And I most certainly could not meditate.
But I also wasn't Thirty-Something.
As I've worked to embrace my single status, I've begun to prioritize my body. I am not vain, but there are few other assets we have that are more important than our bodies. This casing has got to last! And I'd like for mine not only to last, I'd like it to be pretty darn cute well into my 80s. (I'll write about my naive idealism some other time.)
A few years ago I started by eating better and running more. Last year I took on sailing. And now, while I am beyond thrilled by the fact that most clothes tend to fit me, that I've progressed with my running well enough to win my age group in a few 5ks, and that I've developed a sense of stability and equilibrium that has increased my ability to navigate the foredeck of our sailboat confidently, I still slouch when I'm sitting and I have to remind myself to stand up straight constantly (If my mother doesn't beat me to it. Thanks, Mom.).
And so, after looking in a mirror for the umpteenth time and saying, once again, "if I'm not careful I'm going to begin to look like a potato with legs," I've decided it's time to do something about this core of mine. And possibly, in the meantime, add "meditative," "balanced," and "flexible" to my list of attributes.
At 7:30 am last Friday I began my yoga journey.
A kind-hearted friend responded to my request for ideas about what to wear, what to eat beforehand, and what to bring with an offer to come with me saying simply that "Sometimes it's nice to have a buddy for your first time." What? Did I sound desperate? Or out of my league? I guess so. I accepted her generosity and very much appreciate that she responded in a way that did not point out my apparently obvious ignorance.
And I am glad I did! For those of you not familiar with yoga, I will tell you that it's not for the faint of heart. These yoga gurus instruct you to jump and flip and stretch and pose into the most bizarre positions, all while you are trying to remember to breathe in (when they tell you to inhale) and breathe out (when they tell you to exhale). If you are not completely absorbed in your breathing or completely committed to not falling, you will think that you look pretty funny and you will laugh. (Which may be why I stunk at it before...)
The language of yoga is completely foreign. If someone said "Move to pigeon" before I tried yoga, I would probably look something like this:
(This is actually a picture of my brother's girlfriend--aka the funniest girl I know--pretending to be a pigeon in a park. Thanks, Ms. E!)
Not:
(From: http://yogini786.files.wordpress.com/)
(I, by the way, have not yet achieved this particular brand of pigeon....)
So, because the language is so different, and because the poses are not self-explanatory, I spent most of my time watching my own personal guru (THANK YOU, friend, for coming!) trying to mimic her, and trying not to blatantly stare at the crazy acrobat lady in the corner who I'm pretty sure was doing this:
(courtesy of YogaJournal.com)We were definitely not asked to do that.
All the while, the lead guru was instructing us to breathe, and meditate, and allow ourselves to simply become "one" with our bodies. Someday. SOMEDAY, I will be able to meditate while doing this. (Sure.)
I am no longer making fun of yoga as I did when I was an immature twenty-something. Now, I honestly want to be able to do it. Women who practice yoga are strong, balanced women who often have a certain sense of peace and grace about them. I want peace and grace. I want to be strong and balanced. Oh, and I want a strong core and an upright carriage--which these yoga practicing women also possess! And, if I need to tangle myself into a pretzel and learn how to prop myself up on my pinky in order to get these things, I suppose that it's at least worth a try.
Yoga changed my life. It is always there, whether I am walking, giving a presentation, attending a workshop, worshiping, or cleaning house. For some reason my regular classes slipped off my calendar. Your words spark motivation to return to them.
ReplyDeleteBut I won't be doing pigeon I don't think....
Yoga is motivating in and of itself! I never would have thought it could be, but it's a pretty extraordinary activity! Heading to class #3 tomorrow. And there are baby pigeon poses, too. Not all of us can be "King."
Delete