Back to yoga

Don't tell anyone, but for a few weeks, I wasn't doing my teeny weeny bit of yoga. On a side note, I am sad that I never convinced mom to take it upon herself to do yoga. I tried leading her to the water many times, but she wouldn't drink unless I held the dipper to her lips and massaged her throat. Sigh. Anyway, I wasn't doing it. Not a lick. I thought about it most days, but just couldn't seem to get around to it. Part of the issue was the state of my room. Not pretty. Luckily we had a visitor, whose imminent arrival prompted me to do a fairly thorough cleaning. I mean, I even vacuumed under and around the radiator! Eeek! Clean enough to eat off. Well, dirt never stopped me eating off the floor. Five second rule, ha! I laugh at the five second rule!

Ok, read on if you want to hear all about me and my yoga.

I started studying esoteric things when I was 15 or so. Boston/Cambridge had cool bookshops that smelled of incense and had sparkly crystals and things hanging all over the place. There, I read a lot about the various types of yoga. My senior year, as we were signing up for sports (it was mandatory to sign up for one physical activity every trimester) I noticed that a class in yoga was being offered. Huzzuh! So, for an entire semester I took a yoga class. It might have been during that class that Richard Hittleman's 28 Day Yoga Exercise plan was mentioned - or I came across it in one of the bookstores I patronized. I am not sure how it landed in my hands. But once the class was over, I decided I wanted to continue my studies and that was the book/manual I used. The next year, I taught my girlfriend (my first really long term adult relationship) about yoga. She got way into it and we even did yoga together sometimes.

At the time, I was rotating between the three different routines that are offered in the book. I also worked through Richard Hittleman's 30 Yoga Meditation Book and another book by someone else whose name escapes me. At this point, back in 1906 - no, that isn't right - 1980ish, I ended up doing one of four routines just about every day (except when I had partied a little too heartily the night before). I did this for most of the next five years. Sometimes twice a day.

In China, I studied a little T'ai Chi and did that while living there. I still did a little yoga on my own. When I got back to America, I let the t'ai chi slide and went back to doing yoga near every day. My habit was to make yoga the first thing I did in a day. Not absolutely first - but before I ate or drank anything. Not really sure where that came from. Decent habit though (which continues to this day).

Over the years, I told various people about yoga, like my mom, friends, girlfriends, random strangers on airplanes. Some picked it up and loved it - others tried it and moved on. I always told them - do what feels right - don't push yourself - it isn't a competition - find a teacher you like and take classes from them. I tried to follow this advice myself, taking classes here and there, sometimes on my own, sometimes at someone's suggestion. I was even tempted to do a yoga retreat or to get certified to teach yoga. Neither of those has happened. Yet. But I have yet to find a teacher that resonates - or a class that is as convenient as my bedroom floor.

For the past few years, not sure when it started, my yoga practice has been significantly reduced in scope. Basically it is a few twisty things - not really a yoga posture, but something one of my myriad girlfriends turned me on to (I think) - then five standing complete breaths - then two sunrise salutes - the non-jumpy kind. Sometimes I do a couple other things - depending on my mood and if something yoga like has been prescribed by Daily Challenge.

Then, in December, I stopped. Cold Turkey. Just stopped doing yoga. Until a couple of days ago. Truth be told, I am getting a lot of exercise working at the Smith. Still, I missed it. So I started again.

A little side story. I don't know if Karl remembers this - I think he has forgotten. Anyway. We were both home visiting mom for something - maybe her birthday - whatever - I was down stairs, he was heading up to sleep. He stopped part way up and said - are you still doing yoga? I said - yes. He said - I will pray for you. (He was in one of his churchy-phases.) I said - Thank you! Why? He said - Because you are going to hell. I said - Oh, that's nice. You do realize that yoga isn't a religion. He said - Doesn't matter - you're still going to hell.

Good night everyone.