Thursday, November 6, 2008


In most classes I’ve taken, the teacher encourages students to take it at their own pace. You know: Don’t do something if you’re not ready.

Not so with this teacher.

Grasp your toe, you’re flexible enough. (Though I was thinkin’ grasping my knee was a better idea that day.) Your hand can reach the floor, go there. (Although I didn’t think I wanted to work that hard.) Let’s do it again so that you can feel the breath. (I swear to you, dear teacher, I feel my breath every freaking day.)
Turn your drishti to the ceiling, she instructed.

My neck won’t like it, I say.

Do it gently, you’ll be fine.

And so I did. And I was.

Drill sergeant, I thought. And did what she told me to.

You’re jump forward looks great, she said. Now I’m going to have you jump back (for I had been stepping back).

My jump back is pretty ugly, I tell her.

It will get prettier if you work on it, she said.

Huh, I thought. That’s right.

So jump back I did.

Though I didn’t think I was feelin’ it that day.

And when I followed her direction it felt awfully good.

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