Yoga Bear

In keeping with my transformation to Joy, I returned to my yoga practice yesterday. And as I sit here with my soreness, I am infused with a delicious sense of calm. This is my drug better than all the drugs. Except maybe demerol, which is my absolute favorite. But otherwise, if I could put yoga on a little spoon, put a lighter underneath it, melt it into a liquid, put it in a syringe and inject it directly into my veins, I totally would. But yoga isn't that easy. You have to do this work, this great but challenging work.

People scoff about yoga. People say it isn't really exercise, that you don't burn a lot of calories doing it. And while that may be true, that's not really the point. For all my fellow yogis and yoginis out there, I know I'm preaching to the chanters. But to the scoffers, I have to say, the only time I ever felt that yoga was easy was when I wasn't doing it correctly. The first time I took a class with a hands-on, real yoga teacher it was a disheartening experience. Prior to that I thought I was something of a goddess; I must be a goddess to take to this practice so easily, I said to myself. Na-uh.

This teacher kept coming back to me, readjusting, pushing, pulling, making me feel like the most idiotic idiot that ever idioted. And once she put me in a pose correctly, well let's just say, it was fucking difficult to hold it. And I realized then why it had been so easy. Everything I thought was right, was wrong.

I hate the word "pose". It sort of has a lot of bad connotations, what with models and people trying to be what they are not. So maybe it is fitting here, because me thinking I was a goddess of some sort made me a total poser. I prefer the word "asana", which is the sanskrit word roughly translated to "pose". It has a beautiful sound, don't you think? So all of the "poses" in yoga end with that word "asana". Uttanasana, Savasana, Balasana, Virabhadrasana, and the list goes on. The words are like honey dripping off a spoon. Here is my favorite: Ardha Matsyendrasana. It means Half Lord of the Fishes pose. I've never done that asana. But I'm totally psyched about it. I want to feel like a lord of the fishes. Because each and every time I am in an "asana" one of my goals is to embody the essence of the pose. Like when I'm in Bhujangasana (cobra pose), I try to feel sinister and when I am in Kapotasana (pigeon pose) I try to feel like I'm bugging people at the beach. The asana I am best at is Merudandasana (balancing bear).

When I am in this pose I feel as if I am open to all possibility or maybe just waiting around for a piece of fruit to fall off of a tree or for a lord of the fishes to get cocky and crawl out of the sea so I could have an easy breakfast. I really don't know that much about bears.

It was hard going back after four months of inactivity. It felt like starting over - but that it how I am feeling with everything these days. I have to embrace the beginning of a Gwen without grief. Last night, with each asana I felt a growing hatred for myself, a disgust at my lack of grace, my inability to "perform" the way I used to. Annemieke, the beautiful Swedish woman who was teaching the class, sensed my frustration. I was in the middle of locust pose and about to assume bow pose, which, for me, is very challenging. She came over and said to me in a whisper, "You have nothing to prove in this room. You do a beautiful practice. Just let yourself be and do not worry. Breathe." And there it was. Just breathe. I opened myself up to strength, I opened myself to bow pose. And even though I only held the pose a few seconds, it was a victory. I know that next time it will get easier. And the next and the next...

I know this is a metaphor for life. And that it why yoga is so good for me. I have to tell myself everyday, "You have nothing to prove. You do a beautiful practice. Just be and don't worry. Breathe". I have born so much tragedy...What is yet to come I can bear, with grace and strength.

Kripalu

I'm restless tonight. No matter what I do, I can't relax. It has a lot to do with my mental states, a reflection of this inner turmoil which gives me zero rest. The only thing I can do to shut up the negative murmurings in my brain is to never stop. I fill my days with activity and tasks. I overload my schedule with doctor's appointments, training sessions, pilates classes, lunch with friends, work, cleaning. It never ends. But standing still would result in a breakdown. Or maybe not. I just don't want to take any chances. At least I'm working out again and doing so like a fiend. Pushing myself physically is one thing that could always stave off bouts of sadness and anxiety. So that is a positive side effect of this insanity, I suppose.

In July I spent a weekend at Kripalu, which is a yoga facility in the Berkshires. I remember feeling apprehensive on the way there, not knowing what to expect or whether or not I had committed myself to a weekend in some hippie commune hell. But my experience was profoundly soul revising, if that makes any sense at all. Its like I learned how to breathe again. The bare bones accomodations coupled with the exquisite natural surroundings really made an impact and reminded me of what was most important to me: becoming a simple woman living a simple life. Being a grown up in this modern world is so complicated. I hate it all the time. Sometimes I despise the things I own. Its not that I don't appreciate what I have. I just know deep inside that I don't need it all. And it makes me feel ashamed to think of the excess of materials that I've come to believe I need. Anyway, what I value most are those intangible elements of my life: moments playing "noseys" with Liv, making love at the spur of the moment with my husband, seeing a rainbow after a warm rain. It sounds so corny and cliche but its just true. And being at Kripalu taught me how to recognize what I truly need. I want to go there again...to hone that skill, that ability to stop and tune in to what's really important and to recapture the feeling that stopping and being still is not going to destroy me. I think it may be the key to saving my life.