My sis is a Yoga Mama.
I really wish I could be a dazzling urban yogini: Zen-like with my yoga mat, lithely flowing and practicing poses as I center myself. Alas the only thing I’ve done with my mat is crochet a bag for it, let The Bee use it as a runway and it has served as a prop to open a door.
The practice of focusing my mind, quieting my breathing or relaxing myself long enough (without falling asleep) is not for me. I can’t benefit from any of this; whenever I am told to relax, thoughts fly through my head: did I return that e-mail? What stories am I reading tomorrow? Do I have enough trains cut out? Did The Bee do her reading? Is my gut showing?
Yoga always seems like some exotic practice that would allow me to contort my body in some weird way that may be useful when trying to find that hook that got away from me in the car, catch that kid trying to run around my desk or for some rather NSFW* only activities. The instructors I’ve encountered all seem like regular Joes and Joannas: not totally cut or uber fit so not intimidating – until they do they weird leg over shoulder thing or that cat stretch in which they look like they have no bones in the lower part of their bodies.
I decided that since I couldn’t stand the stillness of yoga, I would give Pilates a go. Pilates always struck me as Yoga for an active mind; not so much with the centering and quiet. The moves were also reminiscent of moves my mom would struggle through as she huffed and puffed along with Joanie Greggains for Morning Stretch**. However, when I attempted one move, the 100s, my body decided that 38 was more than enough thank you.
I’m bring sexy back
Someone told me I should meditate however, same thing: thoughts race through my head, I fall asleep, I get distracted, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. I even went to a temple to attempt to find some inner peace. Yeah. After the instructor woke me up, he handed me a tissue to wipe the drool from my mouth and strongly suggested that I have some of the tea that was being brewed before my ride home.
Going through my music player, I came across a meditation podcast that I downloaded a while back in hopes to help me sleep better(’cause golly knows I need more sleep) and I decided to give it a go. With life really being as nutty as it can be, I felt that I should do something other than bitch and moan, eat, or sleep so I am giving contortion a try again.
So far, (one day) I am OK.
It’s not a miraculous epiphany but soon I may be
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.
*Not Suitable for Work. Which means reaching for whipped cream and inhaling TWO kinds of ice cream.
**Yes. I am old. I look young but… (lol)
***Forgive the negative comments. Just having some extra FG days.