Yoga Memories

Slept like a log last night.

Walking and talking so far, but not gracefully.  "Rode hard and put up wet."  Feeling more than half a century old and far from limber. 

I took a yoga class a couple of years ago at the community college. I was curious. There were a few of my friends who had been attending and exclaiming about the improvement in their sense of well-being. 

Fellow classmates were nice, cheerful, encouraging; they greeted each other pleasantly and waited expectantly.  I just followed suit and smiled, too. We sat on our mats and did a long, deep vibrating ooooooohhhhhmmmmmmmm as mystical Indian music played on the stereo. We said "Namaste."  We held our hands in the classic pose of palms pressed together, arms sticking out sideways parallel to the ground.  My sense of satisfaction began to diminish after that as I noticed my hips screaming out in pain after sitting cross-legged for about a minute. 

The ability to sit with legs crossed serenely or do "an inversion pose" separated the accomplished practitioners from the terrifyingly stiff wanna-be-a-yoga-noodle initiates such as yours truly.  The teacher was limber and noodle-like, alarmingly so.  She was able to touch the ground with her elbows - shoulders almost - with her legs straight and feet flat.  And talk about all kinds of things.  With her head tucked into corners of her body I had never considered tucking mine. 

To her enormous credit, she was polite and encouraging to me as I grunted, puffed and winced.  I felt like an old baked chicken with all my tissues and gristle snapping and crackling. I did my best to maintain a zen-like composure, and avoided looking at my face in the full-length-of-the-room mirror.  Purple and red were the prevalent hues on my face, eyeballs bulging, profanity gathering like a storm within me.  My mind was totally focused on maintaining some faint sense of decorum and serenity, but it was an intense challenge.  Mind over body was my mantra.

Poses are given memorable names like Warrior, Downward-Facing Dog and Twitching Grimacing Carcass.  The instructor would say, "Stand in Tadasin, feet parallel, hands facing each other, arms up, shoulders down, chin level.  Eyes uncrossed please (looking at me).  Bend at the waist while keeping back straight, arms up, shoulders down, legs straight. Bend at the hips.  This is shannamahassinmawaganginanda (Hindu word for Not Possible). Reach forward, planting hands shoulder width apart on floor, keeping legs straight, feet flat on floor. Lift hips to ceiling. Hold, hold, hold." (Arms shaking, sweating hands slipping on yoga mat, feet sliding backward. Feeling gaseous. Needing to clench and hold, avoid loud embarassment).

The truth of the matter is that Downward Facing Dog is considered to be a relaxation pose, one that a practitioner warms up with in order to prepare for more strenuous contortions and positions.  One who practices yoga becomes sleek, balanced, strong and confident.  It is a practice that engages the mind and body in a synergistic oneness.  That's what the brochures and magazines say.  In reality, to prepare for a beginner class, don't eat beans the night before, wear dark comfortable clothing so as to appear slim and capable, and remember to breathe.  That last part will alert the teacher to the fact that even though you just crash landed from an inversion (headstand) pose into a heap in the corner, your intention is to go serenely forward into the day.  Right after you get carried off to the emergency room.