If you’ve been reading my blogs, you should be able to sense that I think… a lot…all day long…about every possible scenario… in every aspect of my life. I tend to “what if” the hours away, which can lead to a”bit” of anxiety (those who know me are laughing right now at the “bit”). Ok, I’m a little on the nervous side. But I’ve been that way my entire life. For instance, my daughter is now in Eastern Europe and Israel for the summer; I wouldn’t even go to day camp. At least I own up to it.
A little over a year ago, I was discussing the approaching summer vacation with my therapist. She knows I become anxious over the summer because I have too much time to think. She suggested I take up yoga. Now why didn’t I think of that!? It’s meditative and I happen to be pretty flexible (which if you’ve been lucky enough to be with me at a party that’s serving alcohol, you’ve probably seen me attempt to put my leg around my neck.)
So I immediately began to investigate the best yoga studio. All arrows pointed me to Om Tara Yoga Studio in Massapequa. Next, I had to get a great yoga outfit. If I was going to make an ass out of myself, I at least wanted to be fashionable doing it. And let’s not forget I needed a fancy yoga mat with matching carrying case. Studio- check. Outfit- check. Mat- check. Now all I had to do was actually go.
I’ll always remember my first class. I didn’t want anybody going with me. When I was there, I didn’t want to make new friends. I just wanted to remain anonymous. My instructor’s name was Barbara, a young sweet girl. There were lit candles and incense burning. It seemed quirky yet somehow soothing. I had NO CLUE how to do the poses, but it was a supportive atmosphere. During a part called “savasana” you’re supposed to just lie there and not think, but of course I was making a grocery list. At the end, everyone (except me) chanted “Om”, which up until then I thought was just a myth and quite frankly seemed silly.
Fast forward a year.
My goal of remaining anonymous failed tremendously. Within a few sessions I made a dear yoga buddy and it turned out my yoga instructor, Barbara, was not only Jewish, but she blogs! Now, I don’t “do” yoga, I “practice” Yoga. I call poses “asanas” and I know them by their Sanskrit names. I know the 7 chakras and the colors associated with them. I use ujjayi breath, yoga mudra, focus on my drishti and “om” louder than anyone in the room. Plus, I have a killer collection of yoga pants.
But I still have a far from perfect practice. My shoulders need to relax during Virabhdrasana 2 (Warrior 2) , my hips are uneven during Trikanasana (Triangle Pose) and the owner of the studio has remarked that my pinky toe (yes, my pinky toe) is positioned incorrectly during Dandasana (Staff Pose). Alas, I will never be going to the yoga Olympics. However, if there’s a cute, straight guy in class, I can hold in my stomach continuously for an hour and half while stretching, extending, inverting, twisting, bending and balancing. How many young yoginis can say that?
I may still make a “To Do” list in my head during savasana, but I can say without hesitation that I am my happiest, calmest self when my yoga class is over…at least until I check my cell phone. Hey, temporary peace is better than no peace. Namaste.
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