A Million Diamonds

Yoga is not supposed to be competitive; that's what they tell you. But, it seems to me you are a pretty exceptional person if you are not at all fazed by how you look in the mirror compared to that 5'11" twenty-something who weighs about 102 lbs and insists on bending sideways like a rubber band into your personal space, looking so serene. Or, maybe you are that twenty-something and you don't need to compete, because you are, in fact, a yoga goddess (and someone who perhaps has never given birth and who doesn't have forty breathing down her neck).

I left my first summer yoga class in tears. I was so disheartened by how far back up I have to climb to regain my former flexibility, my former strength, and my former balance. But, in the weeks since, I've kept at it, trying my best not to look at the other people in the room. (If only it weren't for that damned mirror!)

Balancing poses are, right now, my biggest challenge. I don't know what's happened; I used to be pretty steady, but everything is unsteady these days.  The irony is that I feel more centered emotionally than ever. My purpose, at least for right now, is focused and clear: diapers, tiny little finger foods, guarding the stairs, electrical chords and all things that topple, and naps. But my body, and even my mind are a bit, well, clumsy. I forget things. I can't concentrate. I fall over.

I'm especially prone to falling over when I look at someone else who is not falling over, someone who is rock solid, anchored through one leg, stretching through the crown of the head, hands in prayer position in front of the heart's center…When I leave my own thoughts, stop trusting myself, compare myself to others, that's when I fall.

My instructor on a recent Friday was Patty who seems to emit kindness like sonic rays. She smiles all the time. When I walked into the building, she said hello and asked me, "how is your practice going?" How is my practice, I wondered, as I put my things on a shelf, and I kept wondering as I laid out my mat. How is my practice? Am I practicing?

About twenty minutes into the sequence, we were into the balancing postures: awkward pose (aptly named), standing bow, balancing stick, tree pose. I was wobbly. Patty glided quietly around the sweaty bodies, guiding the sequence, offering tips for adjustments. "When you feel yourself falling over, Kerry," she said, "lift your chin up, just a little bit. That will help you regain your balance."

Lift your chin up. Just a little bit.

Patty was right. I lifted my chin and, when I did, my eyes met their own gaze. The gumby girl next to me vaporized and I became steady. I focused on what I needed to do.

It wasn't perfect, by any means, and I struggle on my right leg more than my left. My body is different than it used to be, but everything is different than it used to be—my whole universe. When I inhale oxygen into my lungs these days, I notice a greater capacity to breathe. So, imperfect is okay…the effort and the ease.

When the series ended, and we laid on our mats for the final resting pose, Patty didn't say "Namaste," as yoga instructors are wont to do. She said, "Rest well," and then she rested with us. Rest well, I thought. It too is part of the practice. Resting, as well as working, is something we must aim to do well. Again, I was reminded of my husband: every night when we go to sleep, the last thing Sam says to me—for as long as we've been sleeping side by side—is "sleep well." How does he know about these things? (My friend Wade once described Sam as The Buddha…primarily for his patient capacity to put up with me, but maybe Wade was on to something?)

At the end of class people were milling around waiting for the shower. Patty was talking about her hip replacement from last winter, and how her own yoga practice is helping. "If you focus on the healing, the obsession strips away." Another sentence left to reverberate in my mind: focus on the healing, the obsession strips away.

I have healing to do too: to reclaim my body for myself, to accept myself in this new role as someone's mom, to stop obsessing about what I am not, and be glad and grateful for what I am...to keep expanding beyond my former limitations. Lift up your chin. Just a little bit.

I stood behind the far curtain letting the air dry my skin for just a moment. It was 95 degrees outside; the sun was shining and there was a soft breeze through the low open window. I looked out and was surprised by what looked like a million diamonds twinkling up at me from the illuminated river below. Gratitude washed over me as I filled my lungs. Yoga tears again, but different this time…I am practicing.

Rest well.

(Thank you, Patty.)