Once again, Jake is sick and — despite my best efforts at denying it — so am I.
Just a cough and a scratchy throat. Plus this weird thing where I wake up with my eyes all puffy and glued shut. But enough for me to feel tired and defeated and like a complete wuss.
Used to be, I got a cold every time the weather changed. This is not such a huge deal when you grow up in Los Angeles, where the weather rarely changes. But it becomes more of a burden when you go off to college in Rhode Island, where there is plenty of weather (most of it kind of nasty).
I first became aware of this pattern during my junior year, after three years of surviving primarily on keg beer, french fries dipped in a regretful concoction of yellow mustard and mayonnaise, and sad scraps of iceberg lettuce deemed the “salad bar” at the dining hall. I slept about as much as any college student, wore insufficient clothing for the weather, and considered the “dance aerobics” class in the gym — in which we rocked from heel to toe to the tune of Bruce’s “Glory Days” — real exercise.
Slowly, over the years, I began to give my body a fighting chance. Living in Boston after college, I caught on to the benefits of mad bouts on the Stairmaster blasting a pre-Idol Paula Abdul’s “Forever Your Girl” on my Walkman. Unfortunately, the walks home in the snow with sweat-wet hair probably didn’t help fight off any viruses.
I also learned to run, compliments of one of my Boston roommates. I kept it up when I moved to New York, where the combination of running and enthusiastic early-90’s step aerobics (remember those weird over-the-tights underwear thingies we wore?) should have boosted my immune system. If the depression wrought by law school hadn’t laid it low.
It took many more years and many more modes of calorie-burning for me to finally settle into something that was good for my body and my spirit, the key, I am convinced, to good health. I am only pointing out the obvious when I reveal that that something was yoga.
Treating Your Body with Respect
I’m not saying yoga magically makes you impervious to illness, that it is the slam-dunk solution to the annual “should I get a flu shot?” dilemma. (I never have, but not without some worries now that I have an toddler who, by all rights, should also have a flu shot. But by the time I finished dragging my feet about getting him one, the only ones available had thimerosol in them, so end of discussion.)
But I do believe that truly practicing yoga makes it a whole lot easier to avoid the tangled mess of western medicine, where you take one drug to make you better and another to counteract the side effects of the first and then come down with an odd strain of the disease that the meds don’t address anyhow.
I don’t mean the kind of yoga practice where you go to class three days a week and sometimes carry your yoga mat out to the car just to look like you’re cooler than you are. I’m talking about practicing in your life. I’m talking about practicing yoga when you eat — choosing unprocessed foods, foods you prepare yourself, foods that feel nourishing and grown from the earth. I’m talking about calming your mind to ease your stress levels. I’m talking about honestly getting enough sleep (when a yelling, coughing 15-month-old isn’t interrupting it for you). I’m talking, in short, about treating your body with respect.
How Do I Respect Myself When I’m Sick All the Time?
See, I’ve just set myself up. Because if I am getting sick all the time again, it must be because I have let my yoga practice go.
Well, of course I’ve let my yoga practice go. I have a 15-month-old child. I can’t possibly get enough sleep, prepare healthy food, practice asanas and pranayama daily, and approach life through a calm haze of mindfulness. That’s the whole point of this blog, the whole point of the website that will one day grow out of it (when I have time, when I have time), the whole point of the book idea that gave rise to it all.
Compounding the problem of practicing yoga when you have a young child, the bugs are all coming to our house in the body of that same 15-month-old. Two months ago, when he was recovering from a scary bout of viral pneumonia, Mike asked the doctor if there was anything we could have done to help prevent it. “You aren’t smokers, are you?” she asked. We shook our heads in a vigorous and unmistakable couple of NOOO!’s. “Does he go to daycare?” she continued.
I must have turned white. Or maybe just choked a little.
The doctor was quick to tell me it wasn’t my fault my child had viral pneumonia. “You can’t beat yourself up,” she said so quickly and practically that I know her children once attended daycare as well. “Either he gets sick now or he gets sick in kindergarten,” she finally assured me. I tell myself this all the time.
So. Not only am I responsible for my child’s illness, not only does he bring the viruses home to share with me and Mike, but I am also responsible for ultimately contracting them myself because I don’t practice my yoga with enough dedication. I don’t practice my yoga with enough dedication because I am busy nursing my sick boy while dealing with my own illness.
There’s only one thing to do. Let it go.
Really. So I have a little cough. It’s actually a whole lot less annoying than the sinus infections I kept getting during the winter. At least now I don’t have to pant my way through yoga classes, grabbing slimy bits of tissue from under my mat for a quick blow during down dog. And if I pop a couple of Tylenol now and then, big deal.
Yoga, I am reminded over and over, isn’t about being perfect. It’s about embracing our imperfections, and the messy, uncontrollable quality of life. By getting sick, I am actually gaining the opportunity to practice yoga just as fruitfully as I did when I went through a pancha karma cleanse and was the healthiest person within a ten-mile radius. (Mike will no doubt dispute this, having witnessed me eating nothing but kitchiri — a gloopy, tasteless concoction of rice, dahl, and ghee — for six weeks.)
Plus, when I’m feeling tired and a little bit achy and weak, it’s kind of nice having an excuse to just be still and reflect for a moment. A little bit of a hooray! for being sick.
A Restorative Pose: Supta Baddha Konasana (Reclined Bound Angle Pose)
I can’t recommend undertaking a vigorous asana practice when you’re sick. I know many teachers do not recommend it. Thing is, if I can manage a single cadarana (push-up), I generally will go to class, and I usually end up feeling kind of better.
If you are going to practice asanas while your body is battling illness, at least take the opportunity to be honest about your body’s limitations. Let it be a humbling experience; take advantage of the fact that your ego is necessarily going to be body-checked at least once or twice during the practice.
Better yet, stay home and practice another restorative pose. They don’t call them “restorative” for nothing.
Supta Baddha Konasana (Reclined Bound Angle Pose)
Reclined bound angle. Sounds lovely, doesn’t it? Well, if it doesn’t, it will once you experience it.