Yoga is hard.
Two days after my introduction class I’m only beginning to recover. I knew my flexibility was in dire need of correction, but the class brought home to me that I was stiffening up like Frankenstein’s grandmother.
Which is a good reason to sort it out while I can.
As is the way the class is being taught by a limber elf. I worked my way, rather clumsily, through the positions next to a svelte Yoga adherent who had rubber band limbs. This is a truism of any new challenging activity: you will always begin beside an expert.
I suspect the class will shed people as it progresses. Sometimes it’s too hard to feel physically humiliated on a regular basis. Especially in a room that has mirrors on two sides.
It’s not like I don’t feel the urge to forget or avoid the class under some pretext.
Except, I know that doing a task that is difficult, that pushes my sense of myself and my capabilities, is a positive action. I believe it’s important to challenge myself. To step outside my comfort zone and area of expertise, and flounder like a newbie. It’s not a pleasant experience, but it informs me of my limits, and teaches me that all useful endeavours require practice and repetition.
Just like writing. It only improves through diligence and effort, and it’s important to keep pushing yourself to acquire new skills.
I look forward to the day when I can perform the sun salutation with confidence. It will take time.
Today is Bealtaine, the 1st of May. The hawthorns breathe a white mist of flowers. Haloes of virgin leaves surround the trees. The first beat of summer reverberates through my bones.
My friend Frank Darcy has set up an event via the web called To Life!, which suggests people raise a glass of their favourite tipple this evening in gratitude for their current bounty. It’s a fine idea. Any of us could be gone tomorrow. We should stop to celebrate our lives more often.
Tonight I’ll toast my family and friends: my best success is your love.