It’s time for some yoga. I’m stressed.
I’m new to yoga, but I’ve learned enough for a routine. I want to do better in my yoga practice.
My friend is puts daily “yoga tips” on her LinkedIn and Facebook Pages. I appreciate the gentle reminder, but for me she ought to say, “Are you going to do your yoga, or WHAT?” I have been trying, but I have a serious problem.
Yoga is impossible with kids and dogs.
That’s why all the good yogis climb mountains–to escape them. The other day, I gave it the old college try. I had some music. I unrolled the mat when everyone in the house was busy doing their own thing transfixed by screens or hobbies.
But yoga is powerful–it calls out like “the force.” Everyone knows the minute the yoga mat hits the floor, even if it is silent as a whisper. That’s the perfect time to interrupt.
If I were a yogi on a mountain, no one could interrupt–it’s hard, far, and cold. That’s the idea. But they always find me.
“Mom, are you doing yoga again?” Declan was in the doorway. A nanosecond before he was three rooms away hypnotized by the computer.
“Yes. Please go finish your show,” I said.
“Mom, yoga’s stupid. Let’s do karate. REAL karate, like Poe.” He followed this proclamation with two minutes of kung fu panda theatre, chopping at my knees. Finally, he left the room. I resumed.
“Ohmmmmmmmm!” he said, loud as he could.
“Go away. I’m meditating.”
“Mom, can you take apart these gears?” I separated the gears from my tree pose.
“Mom, are you balancing?” I was focusing on my spot on the wall. “Mom!” He took just one little finger, touched it to my hip, and pushed. I tipped. “You’re not doing a good job.”
Remember my post about patience? Never wish for it, because life will let you practice it by sending annoying things. The same is true for focus and inner peace.
The dog, not to be left out of the fun, joined in. Soon, both boy and dog were lapping me in circles while I stood on one leg in the middle of the room no one ever goes in.
“Mom yoga is very stupid and it makes me want to yell,” Declan said.
“You are disturbing my inner peace.”
“Inner peace is dumb, too.”
“Well, you’re going to be the last one left on the road to enlightenment. Go watch your show.”
“You’re moving to Enlightenment?”
“No, it just comes.”
“When does it come?”
“In its own time. Go…watch…cartoons!”
I tried again today. Declan was installed in front of a screen rotting his brain cells. Poor parenting, good strategy. Poor parenting equals good yoga.
I signed off of a chat, “I’m going to do yoga.” Then, quietly, I unrolled my mat. Declan’s radar cannot be defeated by silence.
Woosh! “MOM! Are you doing YOGA?”
“Mom, do you want to play zombie brain suckers?”
Start the routine again.
“Mom, I farted!”
“Mom, I need a hug.”
“Mom, let’s play dinosaurs. Mom, Mom. MOM!”
I gave up. Note to self: change name tomorrow.
Savasana…time to rest.
The boy left. Savasana isn’t exciting. I relaxed. The yoga took over. Breathe… relax…
Then… thump, thump, thump, POUNCE…a boy leapt through the air aiming to land full-force on my abdomen. There is no contingency for this in yoga. I resorted to martial arts. A clean deflection. He crashed to the ground. I was safe. Annoyed, but uninjured.
Yoga isn’t supposed to annoy me. It’s supposed to bring me inner peace. I did not feel inner peace. I hope this extreme practice will develop an increasing tolerance for focus and patience in the end. Right now, I’m feeling unenlightened.
Otherwise, tomorrow, I’m going to start Googling mountains. I’m going to use my GPS to find the farthest one I can, then I’ll try again.
[Cartoon: AmazingSuperPowers.com ]