Thursday 25 September 2014

These Days I Manage Warrior 2 A Little More Elegantly

It was a Friday evening and as the song goes, "in a downbeat hall in an upmarket suburb" in Dublin  we were all settling  onto our yoga mats. I was looking forward to a long weekend of yoga . We did a few opening poses and though I was quite fit having been an orienteer for the past ten years or so, I don't think I realised just how inflexible I had become over the intervening time. That first two hour session had my muscles and ligaments screaming by the end of it . So much so, that I was beginning to feel resentful that others around  me should appear to be having it so easy . There were about forty folk there, the bulk  of whom were bendy females, and were betraying  little more  than a slight rosiness of the cheeks. In complete contrast to myself, as the practise began to ramp up so did the heat and as luck would have it, I was right under one of those radiant heaters . The sweat ran in rivulets down my back and into my knickers, I was wearing a pair of shorts, my legs became slippery consequently some of the poses became impossible, take for instance tree pose. Every time I lifted my right foot to place it on the inner part of the opposite thigh. It skidded off and went south, bringing  a slick of sweat with it,  puddles of perspiration  collected around my feet, making the mat slippery, making the soles of my feet even more slippery which  played merry hell with my balance in any of the more challenging standing posing. I skated into Warrior 2 and skidded to a halt . Wide leg forward fold became an exercise in restraining my feet from whizzing  away off the mat never to be seen again. I noticed that others had brought towels and were discreetly patting themselves and  their  mats, gently removing small tiny beads of moisture whilst remaining cool and collected. I know I thought, I will go to the toilet and get some tissues and dry up all the sweat. Well the quality of toilet paper wasn't great, so now as well as having a mat that was covered in sweat, it also had little tiny bits of toilet paper stuck all over it . I was becoming more hot and bothered by the second this, along with a raging thirst, and having to endure  others drinking long and deep from their water bottles….scorched all thoughts of equanimity and mindfulness turning me into a short tempered  harridan yogini . I spotted one of the organisers and signalled to him to come over. I explained that I was too hot  and asked “ would it be possible to turn the heat down”? . He said “sure” and set too, to find the switch . When Betsy, our teacher for the evening noticed, she interjected saying that she was cold and could the heaters please stay on !  A compromise was reached by me moving to another place in the hall as far away from those heaters from hell, as I could get. On the way to my new position my big toe was stabbed and and invaded by an oak splinter from one of the planks that made up the lovely oak floor. I spent several minutes sitting on my mat endeavouring  to dislodge it before I could continue.

These days I manage Warrior 2 a little more elegantly !


Later, lying in savasana, relaxation pose and listening to a guided meditation about softening into the floor and letting go. I idly wondered did it mean allowing bits of the floor to penetrate your body? Did it mean having parts of your body washed into the floor by tidal waves  of sweat? Did it mean feeling that the iron clutch of tightened muscles and ligaments were actually supposed to soften and relax that you were somehow meant to GET that this was a gift that could be enjoyed?

After practise that evening as we were walking up the street groaning and feeling every ache and pain, somewhere in the back of my mind I realised that I had actually enjoyed the session. I was careful though to call into a chemist and purchase some old fashioned bathing salts which I added to a cold bath  later that evening. I slept well.  

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