If you’d asked me a few years ago if I’d like to try Jivamukti, I would’ve said, “No thanks. I’m not a big fan of lamb on skewer.” Just embrace your yoga with new types of yoga practices.
While, I’m still not a fan of souvlaki…Jivamukti, a type of yoga practice, has grown on me. it helps to embrace your yoga. And so have its other aliases like Iyengar, Vinyasa, and Ashtanga. They may all sound like they belong on a menu at some exotic restaurant, but only if it’s one that serves a kick-your-butt workout with a side of stress relief!
Embracing yoga was a big deal for me. After all, I was the only girl in my third grade class who couldn’t do a cartwheel. Or a back bend. Or a walkover. Even then my body refused to cooperate with contortions and splits. I’m sure some of those limitations were in my mind; I couldn’t do it because I didn’t allow myself to believe I could. My legs, arms and torso were just glad to go along.
I didn’t discover my inner athlete until I was in my twenties, and then it was all about cardio and weights. As my confidence built, I began to look at different ways to add variety to my workout; running, cycling, even Pilates — but not yoga. That was for those Gandhi types, or so I thought. Then one day I missed my Pilates reformer class and my very persuasive instructor convinced me to try her evening yoga session. “It’s so similar to Pilates,” she said. “You can do it!”
I figured if I could submit myself to torture on a bed-like contraption with pulleys and straps that looked like it belonged in a sex shop (AKA the Pilates reformer), I guess I could handle one yoga class. Plus, I could wear my cute Hard Candy yoga pants.
How My Unlikely Love Affair With Yoga Began
I envisioned myself surrounded by a bunch of ‘New Age’ types chanting yogi mantras and finding themselves. Maybe after class we’d go to a coffee house and discuss the book Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. I convinced myself it would be enlightening.
That evening I strode into class with a mix of trepidation and fear. With false bravado, I followed the lead of others and placed my mat in an open space and sat cross-legged as all those self-deprecating thoughts from elementary school rushed back in. What if I can’t do any of the moves? What if I make a fool out of myself and everyone laughs? I silently repeated my own mantra, ‘I will not fall on my face’.
Turns out yoga is all about falling and getting up. Again and again. Yippee—I’ll get to fall on my face more than once!
Three “Oms” later, a meditative mantra to begin class, I was following the instructor’s soothing voice to breathe deeply. Ah! This was relaxing. If only I could breathe the calories off my thighs from my morning bagel.
As I was instructed through a series of sun salutations, a new mantra formed in my head: ‘Suck in that gut!’ We moved through various poses. High plank. Low plank. Upward dog. Within minutes I worked up a sweat. Other poses follow that work every inch of my body. Where’s the chanting new age stuff? Where’s Gandhi? Someone save me. When the instructor came over a few times to adjust me, I felt mortified. Then she tells everyone, “There’s no wrong way to do yoga. Just be in your body.” So I never really had time to wonder if I made a fool out of myself—I was just trying to be in my body and keep up.
Finding What Works For You
I’ve since explored various yoga classes at my local gym, studios and even in my own living room. They’re all different experiences. I find gym classes tend to put more emphasis on the fitness side and ignore the mind benefits, while some studios are just a little too out there for me. The smell of incense makes me sick, I’m not into drinking herbal teas and I’m not a vegetarian. I like a setting with a more of a combination of the spiritual and physical, where I feel like I’ve worked my body and my mind.
Instructors vary too. I once had an instructor who was a freegan animal rights activist that thought yoga practice was the perfect venue to tout her platform. I spent the entire class feeling guilty for eating an egg. For me, there’s a fine line between providing life affirmations and dictating how one should live their life. In other words, don’t mess with my eggs!
Whatever the circumstances, what I love most about yoga is that you really can’t do it wrong. Sure there’s the correct way to do a pose, but everyone looks different doing it. And like your life, your body changes every day, therefore so does your pose. One day you can touch your toes and another you can’t reach the ground. It’s all okay.
I admit it took time for me to hold my downward dog without wondering if my wrists were going to break off, or if everyone was staring at my butt. I still can’t do a headstand or a cartwheel (I might need to give gymnastics class a go for that), but I’ve finally mastered a backbend so anything can happen.
There are days I drag myself to class like it’s any other workout. The difference is the reward is greater. Not only am I getting my body into shape, but for one hour my mental to-do lists are silenced, I’m able to really breathe, and when I fall I now know for sure I will get back up and do it again — and the only one laughing will be me.
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