Sometimes, you decide you must do something that is against your better judgment.
Ideally, these circumstances should not include going to yoga class. Not because it’s never a bad idea to go to yoga class — although that is the first thought that comes to my mind, even when, as now, I’m writing about why going to yoga class no matter what doesn’t always show the best judgment. No, the wiser part of me chides, if you are really practicing yoga throughout your life, you will recognize when you are just not up to an asana practice.
Say, for example, you are seven-and-a-half-months pregnant, your adductor muscles are killing you from the past three days of not-prenatal yoga, you have a cold that makes it impossible to breathe through your nose in downward facing dog, and you happen to be really, really, really tired because your two-year-old has a cold that seems to make it impossible for him to sleep through the night without awakening you so he can cough in your bed for the remaining four hours you were planning to sleep.
In these circumstances, a sane person might decide to take advantage of an unseasonably warm and sunny afternoon to take the dog for a walk. I, on the other hand, chose to jerk myself out of a well deserved nap at 3:30 and groggily stumble about finding a tank top that pretends to cover my belly before making it to the 4:00 yoga class at 4:05.
As I spread out my yoga mat in the one open space right in the front row, I noticed that it was hot. Often yoga class is hot. Often I enjoy a warm room. But I didn’t want to be hot on Friday at 4:05. And I didn’t particularly want to be modifying yoga pose after yoga pose because my belly is not only growing outward but to the sides as well. You try forward folding when no matter how far apart you place your legs you feel as if you are smooshing one of those gel-filled office stress toys, only from the inside.
In fact, the more I had to modify the poses and the more I felt disconnected because I was doing a whole lot of mouth-breathing, the more annoyed I became. Plainly, I decided, I had some kind of heretofore hidden plan to punish myself. And plainly I needed to be punished — for feeling the need to kick ass in yoga instead of relishing the very rare opportunity to gain weight and turn soft and round without feeling guilty about it.
Sinking steadily into a Jamie Lee Curtis-in-Perfect (1985, tagline: “John Travolta and Jamie Lee Curtis work up a sweat together!” http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0089798/), punishing aerobics routine, I made one last attempt to salvage my yoga practice. I acknowledged my limitations. Grumpily, yes. As if shouting to the people behind me, “I’m pregnant! I can’t do a twisted arm balance! I can’t do any pose that involves lying on my belly, lying on my side, or turning upside down! I can’t do much in the way of core work! Or forward folds! Or just about anything the teacher is asking us to do at the moment!” — yes, indeed.
But, still, grumpy and aggressive or not, I did recognize that there were things my body couldn’t do.
And this, I slowly reminded myself, is part of yoga too. A part I am often loathe to acknowledge, especially during the two years I have spent trying to recover the glory days of my practice before my first pregnancy. But one that is, in fact, far, far more important than mastering the Level III poses. The same way there are things — your child, perhaps — that are more important than making up for the promotion you didn’t get because you took maternity leave.
Yoga is about accepting our limitations and seeing where they lead us, not about overcoming them.
Maybe, I surmised some time as the blessed end of class approached and this realization dawned, we should all be lucky enough to be the pregnant lady in yoga class sometimes so we have a really good excuse to excuse ourselves.
Continue reading ‘We Should All Be the Pregnant Lady in Yoga Class Sometimes’
