Fedore Writer

“I can’t.”

This is what I told myself for the past five years.

Intermittently, I’d wistfully research yoga studios near me. I’d peruse class offerings, homing in on beginning yoga to protect my flaring-up shoulder, which I injured ten years ago in a fall and re-injured five years ago gardening.

Peering into my laptop screen at options, I’d view the limited beginning or restorative yoga class times, which wouldn’t fit into my schedule. I’d convince myself that being in a yoga class and not being able to perform some of the positions would be frustrating, embarrassing and a waste of time and money because I’d be in child’s pose for half the time. I’d close my laptop and shelve my aspirations of returning to a yoga studio until another futile day of wishful thinking.

At home, I pieced together do-able yoga routines and was generally committed to a thrice-weekly practice for fifteen- to twenty-minute sessions to maintain flexibility and a semblance of peace. It wasn’t satisfying, though. Not the way I wanted or needed.

Going to a studio with an instructor to inspire me to hold a position for a little longer, to stretch a little deeper and maintain proper form was the yoga experience I was yearning.

Then, last December, I saw sandwich boards on the side of the road advertising five-dollar yoga classes very near our house. My sister saw the sandwich boards, too, and wanted to try a class. “Gentle Yoga,” five dollars, and a one-hour commitment were low stakes.

On December 19, I sat on a block, in a modified lotus position, waiting for class to start with tears of relief pooling in my eyes. I had finally found a do-able class and was willing to child’s-pose my way through anything that caused discomfort and pain.

I’m finally here.

One month later, my shoulders and rhomboids are stronger, able to support the injury, able to rotate a little more and cause less pain.

As a retired educator, I can’t help but berate myself for delaying. Afterall, we tout growth mindset and productive struggle, and I didn’t apply this to something I love. From previous yoga training and classes, I also knew the yoga mantra of letting go of judgment and letting go of expectations. For five years, I hadn’t applied this either.

For the past month, I’ve let go and gained strength, flexibility, and peace by doing so.

Admittedly, a seed of frustration sometimes tries to take hold during a challenging pose, but then our yoga instructor will remind us to be gentle with ourselves and to be grateful for what we’re able to do, then the seed will dissolve. This trusted and intuitive instructor is watchful and notices when our form and inner thoughts need adjusting.

At the end of our classes, we say “Namaste” to each other, which generally means all that is light within me I bow to/share with all that is light within you.

Namaste, Gentle Yoga.