"Your Child's Pose," the yoga instructor tells me, "has really improved."
"Thanks," I say, unsure if it's meant to be an insult or a compliment. Child's Pose, if you don't know, involves lying in a fetal-like position, and it hardly seems that it requires much to master it.
My partner tells me it is a position of surrender.
"So I've given up?" I ask. "What's next? I run away? And how's my Shavasana (or, as it's sometimes called, Corpse Pose, which basically involves lying on your back)?"
I continue, "Has it improved?"
"No," she replies, "you mastered that on the first try."
Clearly, my feelings were hurt. Somehow my reaction seemed less-than-yogic. Wasn't yoga supposed to help me find the kind of mind-body wholeness that allowed me to rise above such pettiness? Shouldn't I be able to accept the praise in the spirit in which it was given?
But I'm new to this yoga stuff. After years of mocking all things yoga, I now find myself working on my Downward Dog. I move effortlessly from my Pyramid Pose to Warrior 1. And, although I wouldn't say it publicly, I have to admit it's been really good for me (Yes, I can hear the derisive laughter already!).
I only started into yoga with some prodding and a promise that it was "yoga for cyclists." Armand at Republic Bicycles had Amie Taylor, whom he promised was very knowledgeable on body mechanics, offering a class out of his shop. After the first class, I felt a little looser. After a month, I found myself looking forward to Monday nights. After missing a couple of weeks because of hockey games, I'm almost longing for my next class.
It turns out that Armand was right. Amie is very knowledgeable and she understands that not everybody is able to bend in half and do headstands. She also understands that yoga isn't a competitive sport, and she's taught me to accept that my body can do different things on different days.
I'd always been so close-minded about yoga, so sure that I wouldn't benefit from it. So why the change?
French writer Jean Baptiste Karr famously quipped "plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose" or "the more things change, the more they stay the same." But I take exception with that. I think that change begets change. In fact, I think that our ability to change, adapt, grow and accept may be our salvation.
Our circumstances are changing all the time and that change provokes other changes. Those changes, I think, lead to the potential for growth and development. It sounds almost yogic: What's Sanskrit for pop-psychology, anyway?
One of the great things about all of us is that we can learn. I've learned that I was wrong about yoga for all those years. It is good for me, after all, and I enjoy it. Still, I'm not going to start wearing Lululemon yoga pants yet; well, at least not until I find some on sale.
