Day 34 Check-In Time
Well, finally, a day when all the postures seemed to just… flow. So, since I’m thinking about it, here’s where my body and I are at after 34 straight days of Bikram Yoga:
Postures: Pretty solid on all of them. They say that as some postures become easier, others become more difficult, and I’m definitely seeing this. But Standing Head-to-Knee remains my nemesis, still can’t lock that right knee for $&!#
Body parts: Right hip, still a little painful, but nothing like it was. And the noises are mostly gone! I never expected that. Arms: I think they’ve actually gotten bigger. Frick. I look like an East German Olympic swimmer. (A retired one, but still.) Butt: higher. Thighs: leaner. Belly: still jiggles but there’s a faint line of muscle under the flab that I haven’t seen before.
Weight: no change. Well, maybe a pound or two, but it’s hard to take those seriously until they’re joined by a few more.
Brain: clearer, a nice change from my usual fog. I’ve got a book proposal, possibly two, in the works and for the first time in a long time, I feel good about them. Like, I could actually write something meaningful, authentic, that could possibly be sufficiently entertaining to garner a commercial audience. (translation: a decent offer from a decent publisher.)
Heart/soul: as the aches and pains in my body lessen, I’m becoming more aware of the things that hurt on a deeper, more existential level, the losses and disappointments that rear their heads in midlife. Now, I’m fully aware that I live a comfortable upper-middle class life in the best country in the world. I’m aware of Libya and Japan. Terrifyingly aware. Death, destruction, pain, horror, it’s everywhere, on a macro-scale, as well as in the microcosm of each of our teeny-tiny lives. I don’t know what to do with it all somedays. “Life is pain, Highness,” as I quoted earlier.
I guess the upshot at this stage is that it feels good to be doing something hard. I’m so aware of the things I can’t do, or have forgotten or was never particularly good at in the first place. For instance, I’ll never be a Cirque du Soleil Flying Girl, like this:
Professional figure skater is out, as is veterinarian, nurse-midwife, and a host of other things I once aspired to. But what can I be, in the second half of my life? I simply don’t know. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of demand for middle-aged mystics who are good spellers and can bake bread. All I can say for certain is that I’m trying to face the stuff of life, without backing down, without chickening out.
And maybe one day, get my forehead. To. My. God. DAMN. KNEE!
Day 33 Do I Feel Lucky?
No, not today.
The universe, it seems, was conspiring against me making the 3:30 yoga class today, all because I tried to fit a trip to Chapters in first. I left three hours. Plenty, right? Half-hour there, half-hour back, an hour to browse, an hour to spare, no problem, right?
Wrong.
Every single road we tried was undergoing construction, maintenance, repair work, painting, or what could only be flag-person training exercises. On one bypass, I swear they’d closed a lane just because they had traffic cones they weren’t using. But we squeaked back into town with just barely enough time, I figured I could still make it.
Then there was a train. My husband wheeled the car around in a decisive move, determined to do his part. Okay, I still had a chance.
We got home, I whipped my gear together, screamed back down the mountain. Barring parking problems, I might get there before they got started. I could see the studio! Two more lights and I’d be there! My favourite parking spot was empty! Then, a timid left-turner in front of me screwed up my plan. I sat through the red, hearing the seconds tick down. Screeched into the coveted space, dashed to the door, pushed and… it was locked.
Missed it. By that much.
Fine, I can take a hint, I’ll go to the 5:30 class. And in the meantime, I’ll pass on a site I discovered yesterday. It’s called Fatherhood Channel and it’s run by something called the “PAIRS Foundation, Redefining Relationships.” In light of my posting on intimacy yesterday, I thought it was appropos.
It seems to be a mash-up of pop culture gossip and pop psychology with a slant towards celebrity marriages that are trying to be real, instead of, well, celebrity marriages. At least, that’s my first impression. (Caveat emptor: if it turns out to be a cult recruiting ring or something, well… oops.)
But what caught my eye was a list of questions they posted. Even the most seemingly stable relationships go through rough patches and this list is designed to illuminate trouble spots. Be warned; these aren’t easy questions. But I think they’re worth asking, if only of yourself.
- What do I want that I am not getting?
- What am I getting that I don’t want?
- What am I giving that I don’t want to give?
- What would I like to give to you if only things were better between us?
- What am I getting that I do want?
Tough stuff, huh? What do you think would happen if you sat down with your significant other and talked about this? I mean, really talked. And really listened.
I think we could change our lives. So you’ve got to ask yourself one question: do I have the guts? (Well, do ya, punk?)
I’d love to hear about it.
Day 32 Lock-Down
Every living organism has a mechanism to protect itself from harm or threat, from the classic fight-or-flight response, to the more subtle: withdrawal, camouflage, external armour, repellent spray, group safety, etc. These days, our dangers are not primarily physical, no sabre-toothed tigers or warring tribes after us. Yet we go through our days with defenses up: game faces on, bluffs at the ready, jokes and pat answers prepared, because the biggest risk is truth. The biggest gamble, intimacy.
We’ll do almost anything to protect ourselves from vulnerability, but the fact is, we all go through periods of failure, humiliation, gross errors of judgement, uncertainty, ridiculousness, grief, crap-your-pants terror, and, the worst of all:
An audience for our shame.
I’ve been thinking about this kind of stuff lately, and apparently that’s not unusual at this stage of a yoga challenge. Some people, I’ve heard, react on an emotional level to this deeper physical work. Opening up, as it were, from bones to skin.
We’re talking tears. I’m a cry-er at the best of times. The worst of times? Watch out. I was dehydrated before the opening credits of PS: I Love You had finished scrolling. I will NEVER watch City of Angels again. I’ve wept my way through books, conversations, therapy sessions, solitary walks, funerals (of course), weddings (not all tears are sad tears). So yeah, I’ve felt a little teary lately.
I find myself craving intimacy, while being too tired or sore, or afraid, to let down my guard enough to seek it out. It’s so hard to trust that the people around us won’t hurt us. It’s easier to pretend we don’t care, that it doesn’t matter, that we never expected more anyway.
So we laugh it off, send back a “joke” in return. We pull up our armour, tighten our masks and tell ourselves we’re tough, we can take it. Only we can’t, not always, and when we pretend, something inside us withers just a little. We go into lock-down.
Trust is hard for good reason. We’re a thoughtless, self-centered, and sometimes mean-spirited species, and yes, we do stuff in our worst moments that we’re ashamed of in our best moments.
But we’re also kind. We can be, at least.
It’s another type of risk, kindness, but it can break the cycle of mistrust, chip away a little bit of the armour that keeps us from seeing each other. Like a warm bath for sore muscles, kindness eases the armour loose, until it drops away and we can face each other in all our warts and wrinkles, our failings and weaknesses.
Free. Honest. Real.