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"Yoga has changed my life," my friend Beth gushed as she twisted her body into a gravity-defying pose. Her newfound agility impressed me. Beth continued, "Yoga's centered me; it's relieved a lot of stress. Just try one class with me." She did seem calmer, so my curiosity was piqued. Besides, I could use the exercise. And yoga classes seemed to be popping up everywhere—the local university, my gym, even at a couple local churches. One class couldn't hurt,I reasoned. So I decided to give yoga a try.
Once in the class, I scanned the room, curious as to what type of people take yoga. The class was comprised of an unlikely bunch: hefty, construction crew-type men, white-haired grandmas, and people such as me, wearing Nikes and t-shirts. I didn't spot any lime-green hair, or a single pierced nose. Suddenly my attention was drawn to the front of the room. There she was, the instructor—a bit larger than I expected. She looked nothing like those leotard-clad yoga instructors on TV. Her wiry blonde hair blended with her wire-rimmed glasses, giving her an all-around bland appearance. She spoke softly but with intimidating authority.
"Take off your shoes and socks," she said with a whisper. Reluctantly I removed them, hoping nobody else in the room could smell my feet. She explained that we needed to be barefoot so we could sink our feet into the earth. Funny, this earth looked a lot like carpet to me. But I complied, imagining my feet squishing into the soft, fertile ground.
"Now we need to get acquainted with our breath. Americans generally breathe through their mouths and miss the benefits of breathing fully," she informed us. I forced the air in and out, trying to make friends with my breath. It felt good.
"Yoga is thousands of years old, and as of late, has been accepted by modern medicine as a remedy for back pain and stress reduction," she said between breaths. Thousands of years old? Accepted by the medical community? It must be a good thing, I rationalized as I prepared to stretch. We moved quickly into what she termed poses.
First I was a tree. Then she coaxed us into bending our limbs and planting our right foot onto our inner thigh. That wasn't all that difficult until she asked us to squat and twist our torso 90 degrees. She called it the "twisted chair." How appropriate. I looked like a pretzel in blue sweatpants.
Next we began "sun salutations." With our hands raised over our heads, we quickly dropped them to our feet. Finally, we brought our entire bodies to the floor, prostrate. It was obvious this was an ancient form of sun worship. Now not only was my body contorting, my mind was too. God's first commandment to not have any other gods before him sprang to mind. I was getting uncomfortable.
After several repetitions of sun salutations, she brought us back into "mountain pose." I glanced at the clock and was shocked to see all but five minutes of the hour-long class had slipped by. It was time for the relaxation exercise. My muscles were ready, but my spirit was a bit more cautious.
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