One Month At A Time

Let There Be Yoga! Back to the mat

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After about 11 days off, I finally got back to yoga.

I really hadn’t meant to be away for so long –and I started feeling it.

It wasn’t that I felt my joints stiffening up or that I started feeling weaker. I felt anxious, agitated.

One of the things I got out of yoga in March was an hour several times a week where I was forced to get out of my head, forced to step away from the job.

I am not complaining about what I do. I like what I do, but sometimes there’s a lot to get done, a lot of different people trying to get my attention, and a lot of things to cover –and I have a real problem with editing my day. Sometimes, every story feels too good to pass up, and I will bite off more than I can chew.

The best part about the yoga was it’s really hard to think about community theater, handguns, distilleries, or “Mountain Stage” when you’re going through a series of sun salutations and just trying to keep up with the teachers instructions.

And afterwards, I felt great, I felt refreshed –though, occasionally, a little sore in weird places.

I missed that, too.

So, I took a Yin Express class, taught by Traci Levine, a gentler class than I thought I wanted, but it was the only class I could fit into my week.With the gun series moving forward, it’s been kind of a monster.

It was more restorative than challenging –restorative tends to indicate meditative or slower paced, but it turned out that it gave me exactly what I needed.

I felt awesome afterwards.

So, I’m back on the mat, interested to see where it takes me, and looking for different kinds of classes to try.

Send me invites, and I’ll try to fit it in.

Also, I’ll take some pictures. Even I’m getting tired of the gnome.

Let There Be Yoga! Brother, can you spare a mat.

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The Elk Community and Education Center is a re-purposed elementary school, nestled away from the main road, and hidden back behind a bank and a Dairy Queen. It acts as the local senior activity center. They serve breakfast, offer a few classes, and a group of old men meet most days to shoot pool, which is probably as good a thing for them to do, and cheaper than sucking down bitter, lukewarm coffee at a burger joint.

Tuesday nights, they have a yoga class. Some nights, the class is oversaw, unofficially, by a man named Bruce, who isn’t licensed to teach yoga, but has practiced it for years.

Terry, who helps run the center, explained, “He’s been everywhere. He’s been to the ashrams in India. He knows his stuff.”

Bruce was in California this week, however.

So, what we had was a television, a VCR, and an old beginners yoga tape that looked like it came from the waning days of the Clinton administration.

Terry apologized for the low-tech, low-rent situation. They would love to have an actual instructor.

“But there’s no money.”

We did the best we could with what we had. A half dozen of us practiced poses while standing on mats and bathroom towels, but without the benefit of props like straps, blocks, or bolsters.

I had a little bit of an advantage. While I haven’t learned enough to be useful to anybody else, I did know how to adjust into most of the poses, and felt fairly confident I was getting them right. I understood what the television guru was talking about when he started explaining about the breath and controlling it.

I don’t know about anybody else.

What was a little heartbreaking was the people who came out were earnest. It was a humble community program in a center that caters to older people, the kind of people who might really benefit from the stretches, the strength training, and even the mental exercises that yoga offers.

There’s just no money to hire someone to teach, and not much of an incentive to get someone to take the center on. Building a class of even low or non-paying students wouldn’t be instant. It would take time and a lot of patience.

To me, it seems like their problems with their community center and yoga seem like a metaphor for the entire state of West Virginia. There’s some decent space to work with, some people interested in doing some kind of work, but little means to attract the investment or energy to try to make it work.

I’d love to help them. I’m not sure how.

Maybe I’ll have some ideas after next month.

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I’m working on some meaningful things to write about yoga. The trick with this is that there are few pictures. I keep bringing a camera, but it’s hard to take photos when you’re doing downward facing dog. Basically, you’re not shooting anything anyone wants to see in a family friendly newspaper. I could let the instructor shoot photos, but imagine that might interfere with teaching the class.

Also, I’m pretty sure the paper wouldn’t pay them for the pictures.

In any case, what I can talk about is where we are with classes. At this point, at The Folded Leaf, I’ve taken Basic Hatha, Yin, Gentle Yoga, Basic Vinyasa, Saturday Early Bird and the potluck community yoga class, which varies according to the instructor I think, but is probably generally sort of gentle.

The goal is by the end of this month to give hot Vinyasa and Hot yoga a shot, but I’ve also got to fit in some classes at the YMCA and at the Elkview Community Center –that’s my neighborhood yoga.

I actually meant to go to Elkview Community Center last week, which, according to the web, is about six minutes from my house.

It’s also conveniently located near a Dairy Queen, which would have mattered a lot more a few months ago, but I didn’t know this when I went out looking for the community center last Tuesday. Nope, I just glanced at the screen on my laptop, grabbed my purple mat, and dragged my 10 year-old to try some local yoga.

If things went well, we could stop and get the boy a cone. I might try one of the Orange Julius things. I’ve read some of them are vegan, which is probably mostly wishful thinking. The only place less vegan sounding than a Dairy Queen is a Lonestar Steakhouse.

Luckily, things went very badly.

Ten minutes into the drive, I started swearing and openly wondering where I’d missed my turn.

The kid, meanwhile, stared out the window at the passing landscape wistfully while I ranted about the $#@%* internet and then Elkview.

This is not the first time I’ve gotten turned around while looking for something in the vicinity of Elkview. For me, the place is like the Bermuda Triangle. I’ve lived near Elkview for years, but have no idea where anything is. At Christmas, we missed making cards with the Cub Scouts because I drove us around for half an hour before finally giving up and going home. Holiday team and craft building exercises would be damned, I said.

Afterwards, there was quite a bit of grumbling then, along with eventual apologies for once again screwing up Scout night.

The kid just sighed and said, “It’s OK.”

So, we drove around until, fed up, I plugged in the GPS and the preceded to guesstimate the address.

That went not-so-well, too, and took me halfway to Clendenin until I drove back toward Elkview and looked the address up on my phone. From there, it only took a minute to find the place, but we were half an hour late.

So, no local yoga. We went home, where I sulked while he watched cartoons.

But tonight, I’m going. I got my directions. I know how to get there. I’m bringing the kid. There may be a frozen treat afterwards, if not for me, then for him.

I can do this.

Let There Be Yoga! A little late…

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It’s taken a little while to get started with blogging about yoga month –actually, about as long as it took me to find my yoga mat, which was dumped in the back of a closet and needed to washed a bit.

It may be that my cat took offense with it at some point.

Also, it’s taken me some time to find a thread worth blogging about.

Things I’ve learned, so far, about going to yoga class.

1-If you have to change clothes between yoga and work, it’s better to do it at the studio. The choice is to stand in your sock feet in a little room that mostly sees nicely dressed yoga practitioners, but also happens to have a toilet, or stand in your sock feet inside a men’s room stall used by dozens of workers, some of whom aren’t all that concerned about aim.

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Choose the yoga studio bathroom. It’s nicer and doesn’t smell like old sardines.

2- Show up early, not because class will start early, but because the older ladies like to talk and pretty much all of them remind you of your Aunt Joyce. Also, some of them are following my progress, and it’s cool to get a high five from a 74-year-old lady who is more flexible than you.

3-Do not try to compete with Chelsea. Just don’t. You’ll break your spine. And try not to stare. Chelsea could probably kill you. You be you. Let Chelsea be the yoga queen.

4-The music inside the yoga studio is one part Indian Ashram, one part New Age mood music, and two parts stuff leftover stuff from some unnamed Pink Floyd album.

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Namaste, you crazy diamond. Namaste.

5-Sarah at Sarah’s Bakery will always encourage you with your yoga practice. Nothing in her store is vegan, except maybe the bottled water. The baked goods, however, are really pretty and smell amazing.

You should buy something anyway. I’m a vegan, and I buy stuff every week from Sarah, usually on Wednesdays. Whatever I buy, I give to my coworkers, who are happy to have the sweets, which I can really do nothing with.

6-Don’t eat before yoga class. Sure, you’re stomach will grumble, but it’s better than spending 45 minutes fighting the urge to throw up. Downward dog will make you want to throw up. Have a little juice before, if you want, but save the sandwich for after.

7-Yoga pants come in a wide variety of colors, hues, and designs. I will not be buying any. Sweat pants are fine with me, but it’s important not to wear a shirt that fits and isn’t too loose, because that sucker will slide right up to your neck when you’re doing downward facing dog (a troublesome position, truly).

Apologies for the show, folks –and no, that isn’t a scar, it’s a birthmark.