25 January 2012
I've always been pretty flexible - hence the nickname. I first took a yoga class ten years ago. It changed my life. I knew instantly this was the exercise/hobby/lifestyle choice for me and I practised every day, for years. I last took a yoga class the day before I went into labour with Presley. That was four years and five months ago. Since then I've practised progressively less and less. I'm stiff, I'm off balance and I'm tense. Last night, finally, I found a new class.
I unrolled my yoga mat, relieved that there were no cobwebs or moths inside. I stepped onto it, feet bare. I felt connected to the mat, to the floor, to the studio, to the earth, to me. I slowly and gingerly laid down. I began to relax and lengthen. There was a little more space between each vertebrae with each out breath. I could feel the curves of my spine on and off the mat.
As I made each movement my muscles remembered, the cat, the cow, and the downward dog. My shoulders were tight and mostly unyielding, but with each twist I unwound. I remembered how to breathe and when. Finally, becoming a corpse, all stress oozed away. With tears in my eyes I knew I was in my spiritual home.