Chubby Yogi?

yoga blog2
Very comfortable. This my morning practice I do when I am getting ready to go to work, that is why I am in my jeans.

 

My mother was joking about when I was little saying, “You were such a little Hellion. You were a difficult child, running and talking 23 hours a day, but it always amazed me when Mr. Rogers was on, you were quiet, enwrapped in the program. I mean not a word was spoken when that man came on the TV.” Mr. Rodgers with his calm, quiet, dulcet voice, pastel sweaters and serene demeanor, was so unusual to me. I grew up in a full, loud and boisterous house. My life was and still is full of noise. I am a loud person, from my booming voice to my full, deep, whole hearted laugh. When words come to my mind I speak them right away. My siblings are pretty similar.

I guess this is why I am totally enamored and fascinated with calm, quiet people. I have always whether consciously or unconsciously sought them out. I can’t handle not knowing what is in their brains and why they don’t feel the need to speak all those locked up thoughts. It’s like knock, knock, knock….what is in there? My Dad used to say, “It’s one thing to be stupid, it is another to open your mouth and let people know you’re stupid.” I guess maybe that is another reason I am lured to quiet people, I believe them to be wise.

I am pretty proud of my downward dog, even though it could be better.
I am pretty proud of my downward dog, even though it could be better.

The biggest reason I think is that yen yang thing. The whole attraction to what you haven’t mastered. My mind is in constant motion, thinking of several things at once. Most of it seems to come out of my fingers on the keyboard (a thing that has saved many relationships,) or out of my mouth. I fidget, squirm, and rarely sit still. My husband used to say to me, “Can’t you just sit and do nothing??!!!” While the invention of the tablet allows me to do that because I can read and watch TV at the same time, and I have also learned that quiet people don’t always have pearls of wisdom hiding in there…I still long for stillness and quiet that eludes me.

If I told you that you would probably refer me to a counselor, yoga, or meditation, right? It says something about me that I have seen counselors, but never in a million years thought about yoga or meditation. Ol’ Doc Baxter says with my fibromyalgia I have to stretch. Google says, “Fibromyalgia is a common syndrome in which a person has long-term, body-wide pain and tenderness in the joints, muscles, tendons, and other soft tissues. Fibromyalgia has also been linked to fatigue, sleep problems, headaches, depression, and anxiety.” My mom and grandma both had it. Growing up I knew; Fibromyalgia equaled pain you can never get rid of. Knowing the pain Mom went through I have already researched this disease before Dr. Baxter told me I had it. I kept “helpfully” sharing what I learned saying Mom try this, and try that. Yeah, I am that kind of friend, the fixer. Mom isn’t much for trying stuff, so now; I am going back on all that literature, and the number one suggestion: yoga and meditation. Oh, okay, so I guess I will try it.

Love a good hip stretch
Love a good hip stretch

I LOVE IT!!!! I normally hate to sweat, but for some reason I don’t really notice when I am doing yoga. My husband and I have been doing about twenty minutes in the morning and the evening. Last night I sweated a lot. With a concentration on breathing, position of your body, and balance: it is such a challenge for me that it quiets my mind. Even small stretches and poses are meant to be done in reverence and thoughtful breathing. I have found it to be so relaxing and calm, and the biggest benefit is I have noticed after just a few weeks practice I have much less pain than before.

Maybe this will lead me to be the quiet, introspective, wise person I have always wanted to be? That may be too much to ask, but at least I am on the road to far less pain.

 

 

 

I have been hired as exercise’s PR representative

I am lying face down on the itchy carpet in my apartment wondering if they have replaced it since Clinton was in office. Brad is gasping and grunting trying to move himself into the next position. No this isn’t coitus on the floor. We are going through a series of stretches every morning and evening in order to decrease the muscle pain I have been going through. Right now it is an amalgamation of all the stretching we did in high school and some of the yoga moves I did in first year stage movement. We are stiff and breathing heavy. I have problems when trying to stretch my arms and shoulders. My shoulder s pop and resist. Husband has resistance when doing the bend and hang stretch. It isn’t glamorous or easy for us. We are just trying to get started. The TV is primed for the show we are going to watch after and the only sounds are my breathing heavy and Brads exertion grunts. Not exactly the most restful environment. I think we need to change that.

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What my husband affectionately calls the stretching and farting pallet.

When I was in grade school I had a brilliant second grade teacher, Mrs. Goodness. She was as good as the name implies. Everyday we would start in the morning with singing and dancing. At the time we thought she was the most magical and indulgent teacher. Now I know she was wearing our little bodies out, expending childhood energy in order to calm our minds to better focus.

The most miraculous thing she did was make reading a treat. After song and dance time, with such standard fair as “the ants go marching one by one,” we would hit the work of the day and then reading hour in which we could spread out on pillows or in corners of the room and read whatever we want. The treat was, if you were the most well behaved and the best in the class that day, you got to read in a place of honor. Mrs. Goodness had a platform in the middle of the room that held a large claw foot bathtub with pillows inside. I have never worked so hard to accomplish a goal. I was a spazz. I mean my mom set up the original embargo on soda, necessitated by her sheer exhaustion. It was not easy for me to be calm, quiet, and outwardly studious. I think I only made it into the tub once maybe twice. Certainly, all those other days I envied the people in that tub.

How remarkable to make reading a reward. So many times reading is the thing you do to get pizza or some other prize. Mrs. Goodness made the act of reading alluring. There is no power in the verse like a teacher, right?

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Pretty light…also helps with the aforementioned farting.

I want to do this same thing to exercise in my mind. I want to rebrand it for myself. Why can’t I make exercise indulgent? I don’t know how many times that I have rolled my eyes when some starlet or actress says something about how exercise is a meditation, me time, or energizes them. I have never felt that. Exercise makes me tired, sweaty, and cranky. I feel put out and resentful.

There are people who feel this way about reading, and I always look at them like they are crazy, just like some people reading this are thinking I am crazy. Maybe like Mrs. Goodness did with books, I need to rebrand exercise for myself. Those stretching sessions with lovely husband need some fine tuning to be the energizing, relaxing experience everyone recommends. So I am going to get some blankets to make the ground softer, pillows to relax on in between sessions, and have my husband create a relaxing play list. He is good at that. Maybe I will even go all hippy and burn some relaxing candles in the back ground. (We know from watching Scifi that all true meditation needs candles. How else can you accomplish a successful Kelno’reem? What would Vulcans or even Klingons do without a Pier One?) Maybe the full spa experience will turn my head around to exercise. Maybe I will crave it like a good book, or maybe I will go with the sex on the floor idea.

Kelno'reem
Kelno’reem