The Last Class

You know how there are those days when you just know it's going to be a rough day? One of those days where you wake up with that uneasy feeling in your gut? Where something deep inside you is almost begging you to lock the door and pull the shades down? Today was one of those days.

It started around 2:30AM. That's when I woke up and could not get back to sleep. This happens more and more these days, and I'm mystified as to why. I mean, after 70+ days of yoga, I should hit the pillow and sleep the night away. Anyway, I lay in bed until just after 4:00, then gave up and got up.

"Well, I could go to the 5:30 class."

I nixed that idea right away. I was hungry so I made breakfast then puttered around the house. I could eat, hydrate, and be ready for the 9:30. So, that's what I did. However, as departure time approached, I found myself more and more leery. Something kept telling me to stay home. I fell back on the mantra, "The only bad class is the class you don't attend." I tried to silence the voice in my head and drove to the studio. I sat in the parking lot for 10 minutes before entering the studio. I eschewed my normal spot on the right side of the room and instead set up on the far left. Back row. Right by the door in case I decided to bail. The instructor hit the gong, turned on the lights, and welcomed us to class. That's when it started to go wrong, because he had a theme -- something for us to think about during class:

"For this class, I want you to think about how it would feel if you knew that this class would be your last class. Ever. Eventually we all make that transition from this life. If you knew that this was your last time here, how would you feel? What would your practice look like?"

Immediately, a lady in front of me pointed to her water bottle and declared, "If this was my last class, that thing would be full of vodka." This brought a ripple of laughter, then class began.

Between breathing sets, the instructor implored us to really feel ourselves breathe: "Really feel the inhale and exhale. If these were your last breaths, what would you think about them?"

After the first set of Half-Moon, he kind of challenged us: "Everybody is just raising their arms like this (he mimics the majority of the room by raising his arms over his head in a somewhat indifferent manner).If I knew this was it, I would be like this (extends his arms fully, making near perfect upward arcs, reaching them up as though he was trying to grab the ceiling fan)." 

At the water break, he spoke again: "How does the water taste? Feel the coolness, feel it going down."

I'm not sure how anyone felt about all of this. I do know that it pretty much wrecked me.

As the question rattled around in my head, I withdrew more and more from the class. Tears would well up, then disappear, then well up again.So many things started bouncing around in my brain. To wit:

Damn. My postures are never going to improve.

I wasted a lot of time in my life.

I never even tried to find out exactly what my "best" was.

I always "settled". I never took a promotion. Never tried to find my passion. Thirty years in the same grocery store doing the same thing is as safe as safe can be. And it is death.

I rarely fought for anyone or anything, and almost never for myself.

I never will see a mountain or walk on a beach.

I never took risks. Comfort meant safety, and safety meant building walls and spinning cocoons. I let so many opportunities slip by because of fear or because someone said I shouldn't or couldn't (usually it was me -- that would mean leaving the comfort and safety of the known for the unknown).

I spent way too much time on everyone else and not enough on me. And, when people accused me of thinking too much about myself, I gave in more often than not. I let others set my path -- or I walked someone else's path instead of my own. So, now that I am taking a few timid steps forward toward figuring this out, NOW IT'S FUCKING ENDING??!!??

I will never get my hands under my heels.

I guess there was no need for that bucket list, since I accomplished exactly NONE of them.

 I don't want to die. I don't even want to contemplate it. I fear death.

On and on it went. All the while, I'm trying to kick out in Head to Knee, I'm trying to hold Standing Bow, I'm giving up and sitting out Triangle because I already know the outcome. I could barely keep my balance in Tree, and I didn't dare even attempt Toestand. The floor series was really no better. I did three or four postures, but mostly I was just "killing time", so to speak. I did not spend my two minutes in Savasana. I got up and out of there just as fast as I could. I drove home with the radio off, telling myself I should have stayed home.

I feel fairly confident that I will wake up tomorrow and take at least one class. I feel confident it will be better than the class I had today.

But what if?

It really would suck if it all ended this way. 

If I don't figure this out, it will end this way.

The clock is relentless, and I haven't a clue where to start.

Namaste.

 

 

Challenges

So it's been over a month since a proper post. A difficult time. Last time I wrote about being overwhelmed by nearly every aspect of life. My practice was, to be kind, in disrepair. Insomnia reigned, and emotional eating was the norm. 

Now, one month on, things have at least settled a bit. One major stressor has been dealt with, but much healing remains to be done. Things that were strained or broken are being worked on, though there is no guarantee they can be properly fixed. My body still hurts. My emotions are still jumbled. Concentration and discipline are out there, somewhere. 

Over the last two weeks , I seriously considered putting my yoga practice on hiatus, if not quitting altogether. It wasn't fun anymore. Everything hurt. My body refused to work with me. I would leave class with my nerves shot, fighting off tears and emotions. I would dash across the street and comfort myself with a double cheeseburger. Or two. When riding the bus to work, I would indulge in donuts, breakfast croissants, and sausage rolls from a bakery on the bus route. When driving, there was always an extra stop for a burger or a soda. 

The result? Pounds packed on. No hydration. Muscles that refused to stretch or relax. An expanded belly that prohibits any forward fold (the fat pushes up against my lungs and I freak out because I cannot breath).

So, there I was last night at the studio, asking for a 30 day challenge chart. 

Would you run that by me again, please?

That's right. Instead of quitting, I committed to thirty straight days of yoga. 

Why?

First, I need the discipline. When you know that you will be going to class EVERY day, you will treat your body better. Loads more water. Less coffee. Veggies. No illicit trips for junk food. 

Second, I need the peace and quiet of the room. When the door closes, no one can hurt me. No one can get in my brain and put their feet up on the furniture, so to speak. I can work on quieting the voices in my head. I can try to FOCUS again. 

Finally, I am doing this simply to see if I CAN still do this. When I started my practice six years ago, I was so enamored of this yoga and its benefits that I did two 60 day challeges back to back. Lost 45 pounds but gained so much more in happiness, pride, and health. 

I want those feelings back. And more. 

Last night was class number one. It wasn't much better than any class in the past two months. That's ok. It doesn't happen overnight. A little better each day. The best part about last night's class came afterwards. When I told my work-study partner about the challenge, her eyes lit up and she asked, "Want me to do it with you? I will have to take mostly morning classes but we can text each other every day. Keep each other honest.  Cheer each other on."

And that is why I keep coming back to yoga. Even when you think you are alone on the path, you're really not. Whether your mat is next to mine or thousands of miles away, we truly are all in this together. 

Namaste.