Day 125, Yup 125 Bikram Yoga classes in 2011
That’s all I’m going to say about yoga right now. Next topic:
Can I be honest?
This isn’t an opening gambit, ala Joan Rivers or Oprah. Nor is it a request for permission. It’s not even a rhetorical question. It’s an actual question, one I’ve been asking myself for, I don’t know, about four decades.
Not sure I’ve ever asked it out in the open, though.
Pretense has always been a burr under my saddle. Maybe because I grew up Mennonite, which like most upbringings is a mixed bag of blessing and challenge. But the “Praise the Lord, we love the Emperor’s new clothes,” aspect of enforced happiness always made my jaw hurt. Of course, maybe it’s not the Mennonites’ fault; maybe it’s chronic low serotonin levels. Maybe it’s because my Sun sign is Scorpio. (And Moon, Mercury and Neptune. Which would explain the brooding.) Maybe it’s my Introvert-Intuitive-Feeling-Judging personality. A first-born, a mesomorph body type, a middle-aged menopausal woman working through the throes of an identity crisis.
Who knows? (And who cares, right?)
Well, here’s the thing: I don’t think I’m alone in my existential questioning. I suspect there are a lot of women in the grocery store, clinging to their sanity like it’s the last can of beans in the bomb shelter, but smiling, smiling, smiling, wondering what on earth they’re doing wrong and how come they’re the only ones not in on the secret to lasting happiness and personal fulfillment?
Okay, I’m a little idealistic. Scorpio, remember?
So I try to ride that fine line between healthy honesty, and being the weird close-talking neighbor who tells you all about her recent hemorrhoid surgery within your first ten minutes of meeting.
Here’s where it connects to yoga: honesty is related to stamina. Endurance. Steadfastness. Stick-to-it-iveness. Hangin-in-there. Doing what you say you’re going to do, when you say you’re going to do it. No excuses, no “oops”, no “sorry, I meant to” or “I was going to next Thursday,” or when it wasn’t raining, or the dollar picked up, or the yen went down, or your mood stabilized. And no “I didn’t think it would be this hard” or “but I got tired” or “I forgot.”
That all sounds pretty judgmental, doesn’t it? When it comes to interpersonal relationships, honesty is a key player. The closer the relationship, the more important trust is. And the bigger the betrayal when it is broken. “Forgive and forget” is a nice idea and has its place but “forgive and file it away for future use” is human reality, and sometimes the only way to check repeat-offenders.
Personally, when it comes to conflict I’m a natural-born fan of avoidance, denial and the Armani-clad Emperor.
But I’m facing it.
Can I be honest? It might be my biggest challenge.
Even bigger than Standing-Head-to-Knee.
Hangover Hero
- At May 26, 2011
- By Roxanne Snopek
- In Life, Roxanne Writes On
- 0
Now that I’ve finished my 100 days of Bikram yoga, I don’t know what to title my posts. I still did a class today… that would make 101 classes… if anyone cares… maybe I’ll start counting the days out of 365, as in, “how many yoga classes can I do in 2011?”
Hm. That’s an idea. Stay tuned.
In other news: I’m the goat-parent today. Yes, you read right. As of this morning, I had two out of three daughters miffed at me. (It’d probably be a hat-trick but the third doesn’t live here anymore.)
And the remarkable thing is, it feels okay.
I have a poodle-like need to have people not be mad at me. I’m a first-class conflict-avoider, a peace-keeper, a comforter, a pleaser. I’m not proud of it, but there it is. (I’d like to point out here that the Mennonites built a whole religion around conflict-avoidance, except they called it Pacifism, and it got them out of fighting in wars. We’re still a fairly agreeable lot.)
So for me to feel okay about this is… new.
But you’re probably wondering when I’ll get around to the “Hangover” part of this post. Alright, here you go.
Our 16-year old has been wanting to go to The Hangover II movie, which comes out tonight. She’d mentioned it a few times, but I guess I’d filed it in the “Think About This Eventually” area of my brain.
“Can you drive me and my friend to the theatre?” she asked yesterday, finally coming straight to the point.
“Sure,” I answered. “No problem.” Agreeable, remember?
“And, um, will you buy the tickets?”
“Why?” Oblivious, naturally. I was probably chopping vegetables or something.
“Well,” she hedged. “They might not let us buy them.”
“Why not?” Still not getting it. Or maybe I was distracted by onions.
“Hm… well… it’s a restricted movie.”
Aaaaand the penny dropped.
“Let me get this straight.” I looked at her enormous, blue, beseeching eyes. “You want me to sneak you and your friend into a movie that you wouldn’t otherwise be allowed into because the powers that be deemed it inappropriate for people in your demographic.”
“Uh-huh!” She nodded eagerly.
Now this is a girl who’s seen the first Hangover movie, in the comfort of our home, in the company of her parents. Yes, all the inappropriate content, the foul language, everything. Supervised exposure and open communication about such content has always been my policy. I figure being homeschooled for 10 years puts her behind the times, exposure-wise, so I think of it like a vaccine.
But actively participating in such sneakery? I could probably go along with it if it was just my kid, but her 16-year old friend? Whose parents I haven’t met? You never know what kind of crap could rain down on you. Not comfortable.
Which made her mad. Mad! (We have a close relationship, and she’s a pleaser, like me, so this was something of a breakthrough for both of us.)
But I held firm. Then I pulled out the crisp, rarely-used “Ask your father” card.
Her face fell. This was not the answer she was looking for. In her experience, Mom says yes, Dad says no. Mom encourages, Dad cautions. Mom says “why not?” while Dad tells you the 50 ways it could kill you.
But he surprised her.
“Sure,” he said. “I’ll drive you and I’ll stay for the movie, too. In case you need an adult.”
I pretended to be surprised, too. I know he doesn’t get as many chances as I do to be the hero-parent. So today, it’s his turn. And he gets to see a movie that I probably wouldn’t go to with him. (I mean, I’ll watch it at home… if there’s nothing else on… but pay to see it in a theatre? Meh.)
And I get the TV to myself tonight.
Win-win-win.
Day 98 Function Before Form
In case anyone was wondering, beer and yoga do not mix. Not when we’re talking Bikram Yoga, and I’m on my 98th consecutive day.
Today, the Vancouver Canucks played the San Jose Sharks at noon. By chance, some dear friends of ours were in town and able to watch with us. We had brunch together, and later, as the game went from great to awesome, we switched from coffee to beer. I don’t drink much, and knew it wasn’t the smartest move to add a second diuretic to my system, but what can I say? I like beer, I love my friends, the Canucks were rockin’ and well… I felt a little what-the-hell-ish.
I’ve had several very strong days in a row. I figured if I wimp out at today’s class I’ve earned it.
And I did okay – until the floor series. It’s strange that my energy seems fine for the standing series, which are aerobically more challenging, only to wilt and fizzle once I’m lying down. I wonder why?
My progress in the standing series is coming along nicely, I’m happy to report. Standing-Head-to-Knee doesn’t bother me much anymore. I still can’t hold my legs out for long, and Head hasn’t met Knee yet, but I couldn’t get either leg out straight at all, for a long time. Even the set-up was very challenging. So the progress is significant, if not particularly visible.
And the longer I do this, the less I care about the visible changes. I mean, sure, I’d like to be slender and willowy again like I was in my twenties, but only if I could get there without strenuous dieting. Which I can’t. And I find myself being less critical about my body, as I push the boundaries and discover new abilities. The pain in my hips I moaned about three months ago? Gone.
Slowly but surely, I’m changing my body, lengthening ligaments, tendons and muscles. When I began this, 98 days ago, I figured I’d see a massive overhaul of my physical self in 30 days. Then I got real; obviously it would take 60 before I’d be a super-model. Somewhere after that, I realized my physical self was never going to be on the cover of Yoga Journal, and that the real changes, the important changes, would come from the inside out.
Function before form, substance over style. I’m working on the essence of who and what I am.
Should’a guessed it might take more than 30 days.