Family life. Three kids. Husband recording this week. Next week too. Dinners to make and dishes to wash and laundry to hang and floor to sweep. Bugs to pick off some of my plants and neem oil to spray on them. A spread sheet for 2009 to finish asap. Carpooling to Taekwondo. Sprinkler pipe broken underground. A garden to water by hand all week til the gardener returns to fix it. And this past week there were two extra days off of Shawn's school for teacher work day and government furlough.
Calgon, take me away.
I tweaked my back a couple of weeks ago and unlike my typical rehab (stretching, taking it easy for a day, good diet and rest) it wasn't getting better. I went to a physical therapist this week who works holistically, incorporating pilates and "energy work" into her practice. She was very good. She said, "you need to strengthen your abdominals. Me who had washboard abs in high school. Me who did press handstands in college. "Do some yoga lunges," she said, and she showed me an isometric stomach exercise to do as well.
Ten years ago I learned yoga in a class with ten other people and a sweet, smiling forty-something red headed teacher. Most people in the class were regulars. Irma was the oldest student. She was 85, really skinny, and always frowning. She was stiff and grumpy. But she came to class, every time.
"How are you Irma?" Lahar would ask.
"I'm here," she would always answer.
I remember thinking back then, "This is a great sport. I can do this for the rest of my life." (I thought of yoga as a sport).
Then we moved and I found another yoga teacher, a man about my age who was fit, gentle spirited, and funny. I went three times a week for three years, often my husband would join me. The class was hard work and we did the handstands differently than in gymnastics, but there I learned the principles of alignment and although I never saw myself in this light, it was there that I began to become a yogi. Eventually the class was twice a week, then once, then the teacher moved away. I tried to find a teacher I liked as much as him to no avail. So I joined a gym, to make sure my heart rate was up to speed. I still did yoga stretches there, but it wasn't the same. I always ended up on the treadmill, watching television. I walked and ran hard for an hour but it wasn't yoga. I did this type of exercise for a couple of years.
I found out a month ago that my first yoga teacher just died. She was only 50. She ate organic food, was a vegetarian, practiced yoga her entire adult life, and was a very giving soul. She died of a brain aneurism. I hadn't been in touch with her and didn't get a change to say goodbye.
Two days ago I got out my yoga mat and put it on our back porch while Gary and the kids were at Taekwondo. It was five o'clock, and cloudy. The neighborhood was quiet, just a gentle breeze of palm trees and a few birds to keep me company. I gently practiced yoga for 1/2 hour, my back going into spasms if I pushed too hard. It felt great. Everything came back to me and I found I could "teach" myself. Today Gary took the kids out and I got two hours alone in the house. I practiced yoga for an hour, tuning in to whatever area of my body wanted attention, and remembering a pose to suit that need. I remembered a pose that I did with Lahar, and held that for awhile. I looked out at the orange cloudy sky and thought of her, getting a strong sense that wherever she was now, she was at peace.
Today my back has stopped the spasms. I feel stronger. I have been doing the stomach exercises. I see the PT this week again. I wonder if she'll notice the change I feel.
When I was young I was a jock and I had so much time to practice all sorts of athletics. Now I have to create time for exercise, when I need it most. But I am determined to continue with my yoga practice.
Rest in peace, Lahar. I'm glad you were in my life.
