It's Scary Out There . . .
I’m getting “in to” Yoga.
I have a groovy pair of yoga pants.
Not this kind . . .
This kind. . .
Nephew-in-law, Jake, gifted me with them last Christmas,
Black ankle-high yoga socks with tiny traction bumps on the bottom, a neon green constriction shirt which holds it all in while I bend.
and I’m thinking about growing my hair out into dreadlocks and cashing in air miles for a ticket to an ashram . . .
Seriously. I am taking yoga. And I do have all that yoga paraphernalia. More than that, I have found a yoga studio close enough to commit to frequenting, and 2 yoga instructors—not sure exactly which is the proper title: Babba? Saddhu? Badji? Hadji? Yogis? Yogi?—I enjoy following.
One, Erica, doesn’t mess around. Erica walks in, smiles, and after OHMMMMMMs are ohmed has us up-down-bend and jumping back-up-and-down-again so quickly and so many times we’re soon puddles and the only thing I can think on during the hour is “Which is left? Which is right?” (I’m left-right challenged.)
The other, Catherine, glides in, sits, looks around, turns on music and begins each morning practice by stating our week’s ‘intention”, offers a reading or other thoughts to ponder, after which we offer 3 cleansing OHMS and then float through EXCRUCIATINGLY long, languid, dog-cobra-eagle-warrior poses during which "pondering" is the only thing that keeps me from crying.
Eagle pose is like having to go to the bathroom really bad, and are trying to hold it while not getting your foot dirty. . . not pretty or easy.
One of Catherine’s recent ponder points was from “bestselling author, poet, philosopher” Mark Nepo’s book:
THE BOOK OF AWAKENING: HAVING THE LIFE YOU WANT BY BEING PRESENT TO THE LIFE YOU HAVE.
Nepo tells of a guy “Robert” who dumped his fish into a bathtub of water so he could clean their tank.
When Robert came back to retrieve the fish from the tub, “he was astonished to find that, though they had the entire tub to swim in, they were huddled in a small area the size of their tank. There was nothing containing them, nothing holding them back. Why wouldn’t they dart about freely?”
I AM JUST LIKE THOSE BATHTUB FISH?????!!
But why?
Do I follow the rules, stay inside the lines, rely on learned behavior, swim the same circles around and around and around and around and around—in life and in my work—because it’s best . . . Or because it’s easiest?
Because it’s smart . . . or because the alternative is unknown?
Because it’s safe. . .
. . . because I’m lazy?
. . . scared to make mistakes?
How many times, in how many copies of NOT NORMAN have I written “Think Outside the Bowl!”
It’s high time I did.
Care to join me? Dare you! Dare me!
