05:28 PM CDT on Thursday, August 18, 2005
Yoga is a system of exercises for attaining bodily or mental control and
well-being. It’s a moving meditation that can unify the body, mind and
spirit as it balances your energy centers — also known as “chakras.”
And then there is beginning yoga. Beginning yoga is defined as a
system of exercises for attaining humiliation as you nearly fall through
a coffee table while trying to achieve the Extended Camel Posture (Purna
Ushthra Asana in yoga terminology).
Beginning yoga is what I do, or more accurately, did. My dedication
lasted approximately 39 minutes — the running time of an instructional
yoga video that, if not for my wife, would be taped over with episodes
of Seinfeld.
My wife loves the tape and says that it improves flexibility and
strength. So I decided to try the yoga workout, as a favor to my wife,
and of course, my chakra. I play a lot of sports and stay reasonably in
shape, so I thought balancing my energy centers wouldn’t be too
difficult. The video’s box also mentioned that the yoga workout would
help me find relaxation in my strength, which sounded great. Strong and
relaxed — what a nice combination.
After a few yoga postures, however, I wasn’t feeling the relaxation in
my strength. I was seeing the comedy in my weakness. The Cobra
(Bhujangasana), Downward Dog (Adhomukhasvanasana) and Warrior Pose
(Virabhadrasana) convinced me that learning yoga would be much harder
than spelling Paschimotanasana (Forward Stretch). Fifteen minutes into
the tape, I was tempted to return to a more familiar posture, the
Recline With Beverage.
But I didn’t want to be a quitter. I still feel bad that my childhood
voyage into martial arts only lasted long enough to learn how to count
to 10 in Japanese. And my soccer experience wasn’t much longer, albeit
long enough to learn that flying soccer balls always assume trajectories
that collide with the faces of players who wear glasses.
So I decided to persevere through the entire yoga routine. It helped
that I was in my house, and not at the health club, where my yoga
ineptitude would be on full display to the people achieving the human
pretzel (Mr. Salty Posture). In privacy, I could attempt to push my body
toward its spiritual center, or at least give my chakra a good stretch
if my downward dogs (Casper and Maggie) would stay out from under my
feet.
The yoga instructor’s encouragement helped. “Good,” she said at one
point, not noticing that my tired spiritual center had led me to cheat
and bend my knees during the forward standing bend. “You’re doing great
today,” she said later as I failed to do what she calls the “Crane
Posture,” or what I like to call “Impossible for Me.” I may not have
been succeeding in the — this is a quote from the video box —
“time-tested spiritual discipline where exercise and relaxation meet,”
but at least the instructor was giving my chakra a pep talk.
I tried to copy the instructor’s postures, but it was like trying to
trace a Rembrandt. Her picture-perfect postures are probably framed in a
yoga studio somewhere. My postures, on the other hand, are the
equivalent of a preschooler’s crayon scribbles on a wall of the studio.
And some of the postures I couldn’t even do. “You might not be able to
do this right away,” she said, again in a very encouraging voice.
Right away? No, I’ll never be able to stand on my hands and lift my
knees over my shoulders.
But at least she has faith in me, which might convince me to pop the
tape in a few more times. I figure that even if I don’t do the routine,
I’ll have somebody telling me that I’m doing a great job. That is sure
to make me feel better as Chee-tos crumbs roll down my shirt.
I could also just fast-forward to the end of the workout, the part of
the workout I enjoyed the most. That’s where the instructor told me to
lie down, close my eyes, and feel every part of my body relaxing. “Feel
your legs relax, your arms relax, your head relax,” she said. “Feel
yourself sinking deeper into the floor.”
Now that was relaxing. After sinking deep into the floor, I came up to a
seated position. The instructor told me I “did a terrific job today,”
although she probably tells that to all her students.
Mimicking her, I brought my hands together and bowed forward as she said
“Namaste,” a greeting that means, in part, “I honor the place in you
which is of love, of truth, of light, of peace.”
Such a beautiful ending. But the next morning, I was so sore that I
groaned as I got out of bed.
Loosely translated, I believe “ugh” and “argh” mean “Oh, my aching
chakra.”
Every other Friday, Dallas Morning News staffer Matt
Wixon brings the funny to Break Room.
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Matt Wixon