Misstropolis

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

A Yogi’s Best Friend is Her Dog

by Karen McGee

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I have known Downward Dog for about ten years now. We met at a yoga class at Club Med. My first impression was – not for me! Where is the bathroom and how can I get out of here? If I make it to the end, this will be my last yoga class!

The octogenarian teaching the class in his 100-pound earth suit seemed as if he had not entirely climbed the evolutionary ladder, and was more comfortable on all fours. “Relax, surrender, accept...Breathe with the ‘whole body.’” He kept chanting about some “heart chakra” that I was supposed to open, while he walked around the room, still on all fours. Did he say breathe?

Upside down I was thinking, “Hey skinny, how do you expect me to breathe when my legs are trembling, my butt is shaking, and you want me to lower my heels to the earth?” I was struggling to imagine how I would ever manage such extreme mastery over my body, when the spasms turned into full-blown convulsions.

I had always regarded myself as fit. Running, I could go for miles. Sit-ups, I could do hundreds. Now I could barely hold myself up without crashing my downward face onto my mat. My arms, chest, shoulders, back, felt anything but fit.

This is where I came face to face with my weaknesses. Yes, I was strong as a runner, but I felt weak in this stillness… vulnerable, imbalanced, scared. The teacher kept bringing up the “whole body,” yet I could only feel parts – like the hamstrings and shoulders that were screaming “get out… faster then you can say Jack Robinson!”

“Breathe, relax, surrender,” I repeated, and what was I running away from anyway? Maybe I could make it through the next hour of this. “Inhale, exhale, so simple.”

Then something magic happened. I actually began to fall in love with Downward Dog. As if in that moment of breathing, recovering, and feeling entirely vulnerable, I noticed my heart. Not my pectoralis major, not my aorta; but my spirit, my essence. I know this sounds overly simplistic, but like the act of breathing, it really is.

I stayed on my mat… inhale, exhale… I hung in there. I didn’t run away. And suddenly there it was! My heart chakra. It was there all along, tucked neatly inside this “whole body” Skinny kept chanting about.

That was my fist encounter with yoga, and I still feel all those emotions during my practice. These are not just words, but my experiences, gritty confessions of a former yoga teacher. Since I have discovered yoga, I have discovered an inner strength that was lacking that day at Club Med. This strength, this sense of wholeness has gotten me through death, divorce, creating a new family, and other trials too numerous to mention. Where before I felt weak and unprepared, now I know I can hold myself up no matter how hard it gets, or how badly I want to fall down.

Through it all, and through every new day, Downward Dog is there for me. I guess it’s true what they say…Downward Dog is a yogi’s best friend.