YOGA FOR KNUCKLEHEADS #5: "FLEXIBILITY"
BY DELL FRANKLIN
A month or so into yoga classes and a miracle has already occurred: I can get through an hour of nonstop rallying on the tennis court against a man 12 years younger without enduring excruciating pain and feeling like my right hip is going to break off after twenty minutes. I no longer look like a three-legged dog chasing a ball the last 40 minutes. I am relatively pain free in that sacred area, where my orthopedic surgeon mentioned replacement.
After one of my classes, Samantha, who always asks how I’m doing, received this news: “My hip has loosened up and yoga has improved my tennis game.”
“I’m so happy for you,” Samantha exclaimed, smiling broadly, like a doctor or physical therapist pleased at the progress of a worthy patient and proud of her professional success.
“Tennis is a passion,” I explained. “And now I can play it pain free—a great gift.”
“Well, you keep at it, Dell, and you’ll experience progress throughout your body. And let’s hope yoga becomes a passion, too.”
I forgot to inform her that when I awaken in the morning I no longer creak around in slow motion like a hunchback with a stiff lower back, fearful to move or bend over too quickly to fetch my dog’s bowl. At first, the morning after yoga class, my lower back was a little stiff in a different area, mostly I suppose from stretching new muscles affiliated with the spine, but now I am loose down there and move freely mornings in a jaunty manner and feel if I stay with this yoga business I will remain physically more comfortable and supple and explore new avenues of flexibility that will extend my tennis career and help my poor ruined joints.
Still, observing fellow yoga participants bend and stretch, there is evidence I am still far, far behind and must take seriously Samantha when she explains how certain poses help certain muscles, and how these poses trickle down in vibrating “residue” to vital organs and improve our over-all health. Samantha stresses breathing. Samantha stresses union with our emotions, like a good shrink and not some new-age witch doctor or charlatan. Is she too far out? Does yoga enhance our mental health and well being beyond relieving me of looking like a three-legged dog when I play tennis and shriek with agony when I run hard to my right and plant in preparation to hit a cross-court forehand, wanting to excel, wanting to look good, wanting to win?!!!
Maybe.
Am I on the verge of, like many others, finding a guru? The other day Samantha was not there! I was disappointed when I showed up in the office and Gia informed me she was subbing for Samantha and, furthermore, I should not wear my sneakers or flip-flops onto the sensitive cork floor but instead stash them in square cubby-holes like other participants. Gia is shorter, stockier, older, and I instantly obeyed her, properly chastised, and deservedly so, because I knew from the get-go I was to stash my shoes in these cubby-holes like everybody else, but as usual tried to get away with a fast one like an errant 13 year and took them off and placed them beside my mat.
I was relieved, though, when Gia seemed not the stern lecturer but one schooled in dealing with somebody used to pushing hard throughout a lifetime to get away with something but was not a complete asshole and was probably in yoga for all the right reasons. I was sure of this when she asked if there were any specific poses I wished to use on this day, and I quickly informed her of my bad hip, and she said we would work on it, because the class had shrunk to 5 with Samantha out of town, and immediately I felt compassion for Gia having to contend with this situation, just like I would, and said I greatly would appreciate special attention to my hip.
Gia did not get carried away with the India spiritualism but instructed a class that indeed opened up my hip and helped me immensely. Repeatedly she strolled over while delivering instructions and kept a concerned eye on me when I explained I needed a new shoulder and probably a new knee and could not do certain things, and I was thankful for somebody who was a complete stranger go out of their way to care about me. When the class ended, the participants thanked her after she thanked us and I clapped my hands After rolling up my mat and stashing my other help aids I told Gia about my revived tennis game and the previous three legged dog performance and, like Samantha, she was more than pleased and urged me to keep coming, and I promised to do so, like a an all-in convert, a true-believer.
Still, much as I like Gia, who seems a little older and firmer, but also fair and compassionate, I feel addicted to Samantha’s classes, even though my mind wanders and I often dream about nonsense when she urges us to “embrace the moment and clear the forest…”
As I writer, I like ‘clear the forest,’ yes, and realize I am up against a literal briar patch of clutter, congestion, consternation, choler and continual concern with the ongoing forest that has been growing steadily and clouding my emotional and mental clarity for years and must either bulldoze or burn it down completely and start all over.
Yet right now I will deal specifically with continuing to improve my tennis game…but the door is open.
A month or so into yoga classes and a miracle has already occurred: I can get through an hour of nonstop rallying on the tennis court against a man 12 years younger without enduring excruciating pain and feeling like my right hip is going to break off after twenty minutes. I no longer look like a three-legged dog chasing a ball the last 40 minutes. I am relatively pain free in that sacred area, where my orthopedic surgeon mentioned replacement.
After one of my classes, Samantha, who always asks how I’m doing, received this news: “My hip has loosened up and yoga has improved my tennis game.”
“I’m so happy for you,” Samantha exclaimed, smiling broadly, like a doctor or physical therapist pleased at the progress of a worthy patient and proud of her professional success.
“Tennis is a passion,” I explained. “And now I can play it pain free—a great gift.”
“Well, you keep at it, Dell, and you’ll experience progress throughout your body. And let’s hope yoga becomes a passion, too.”
I forgot to inform her that when I awaken in the morning I no longer creak around in slow motion like a hunchback with a stiff lower back, fearful to move or bend over too quickly to fetch my dog’s bowl. At first, the morning after yoga class, my lower back was a little stiff in a different area, mostly I suppose from stretching new muscles affiliated with the spine, but now I am loose down there and move freely mornings in a jaunty manner and feel if I stay with this yoga business I will remain physically more comfortable and supple and explore new avenues of flexibility that will extend my tennis career and help my poor ruined joints.
Still, observing fellow yoga participants bend and stretch, there is evidence I am still far, far behind and must take seriously Samantha when she explains how certain poses help certain muscles, and how these poses trickle down in vibrating “residue” to vital organs and improve our over-all health. Samantha stresses breathing. Samantha stresses union with our emotions, like a good shrink and not some new-age witch doctor or charlatan. Is she too far out? Does yoga enhance our mental health and well being beyond relieving me of looking like a three-legged dog when I play tennis and shriek with agony when I run hard to my right and plant in preparation to hit a cross-court forehand, wanting to excel, wanting to look good, wanting to win?!!!
Maybe.
Am I on the verge of, like many others, finding a guru? The other day Samantha was not there! I was disappointed when I showed up in the office and Gia informed me she was subbing for Samantha and, furthermore, I should not wear my sneakers or flip-flops onto the sensitive cork floor but instead stash them in square cubby-holes like other participants. Gia is shorter, stockier, older, and I instantly obeyed her, properly chastised, and deservedly so, because I knew from the get-go I was to stash my shoes in these cubby-holes like everybody else, but as usual tried to get away with a fast one like an errant 13 year and took them off and placed them beside my mat.
I was relieved, though, when Gia seemed not the stern lecturer but one schooled in dealing with somebody used to pushing hard throughout a lifetime to get away with something but was not a complete asshole and was probably in yoga for all the right reasons. I was sure of this when she asked if there were any specific poses I wished to use on this day, and I quickly informed her of my bad hip, and she said we would work on it, because the class had shrunk to 5 with Samantha out of town, and immediately I felt compassion for Gia having to contend with this situation, just like I would, and said I greatly would appreciate special attention to my hip.
Gia did not get carried away with the India spiritualism but instructed a class that indeed opened up my hip and helped me immensely. Repeatedly she strolled over while delivering instructions and kept a concerned eye on me when I explained I needed a new shoulder and probably a new knee and could not do certain things, and I was thankful for somebody who was a complete stranger go out of their way to care about me. When the class ended, the participants thanked her after she thanked us and I clapped my hands After rolling up my mat and stashing my other help aids I told Gia about my revived tennis game and the previous three legged dog performance and, like Samantha, she was more than pleased and urged me to keep coming, and I promised to do so, like a an all-in convert, a true-believer.
Still, much as I like Gia, who seems a little older and firmer, but also fair and compassionate, I feel addicted to Samantha’s classes, even though my mind wanders and I often dream about nonsense when she urges us to “embrace the moment and clear the forest…”
As I writer, I like ‘clear the forest,’ yes, and realize I am up against a literal briar patch of clutter, congestion, consternation, choler and continual concern with the ongoing forest that has been growing steadily and clouding my emotional and mental clarity for years and must either bulldoze or burn it down completely and start all over.
Yet right now I will deal specifically with continuing to improve my tennis game…but the door is open.
