The Reluctant Yogi — Open Door Yoga at St. David’s

Spiritual serenity is an elusive commodity in our house. I don’t meditate daily. Although I probably should. I don’t practice yoga daily. Although I probably should. In fact, I don’t mediate at all and I only go to yoga because — well, because I’m the one who organized the class. (Why did I do this? I guess somewhere in my heart of hearts I must have known I needed a yoga class…)

I’m always grumpy about going to yoga. I stump out of the house at the last possible moment, grumbling about all the other things I have to do and how I can’t afford the time.

I bolt up to the bedroom, fling off my daytime clothes and rummage madly in the mess for my yoga tights.

I rush my dinner. Or I skip my dinner and have it later (I’m getting smarter and have finally noticed that yoga on a fully tummy is less than ideal).

I grab my yoga blanket.

And off I go grumbling.

And here’s the thing: I’m always glad I went.

When I walk down the stairs and into the parish hall, with the lights suitably dimmed and the other participants gathering, taking off their coats, and laying out their mats, before I even have my mat out, I think I start breathing a little deeper.

Sure. I have a lot of stuff to do. And this is probably a complete waste of time.

But I like the gentle way that our instructor, Judith, has about her. I like the candles she lights; I like the music she plays.

I like this quiet hour down in the church basement with my friends and neighbours, as we struggle to stretch out our tight places and wobble to keep our balance. It’s a friendly, supportive, non-competitive class; most of the time, we are so busy doing our own work, we don’t notice if someone else has to bend their knees to get into a pose the “experts” can do with straight legs, or cheat by sitting on a blanket to raise the butt up a little… We just let go of our judgments and expectations and relax and see what is possible this week.

Me, I’m a firm believer in “anything worth doing is worth doing badly.” So I do my yoga badly (but as well as I am capable of right now) with all my heart.

And at the end of the hour, I’m always completely different. My voice is lower, I move more slowly, I laugh deeper. I take twice as long to walk home as I did to get there. What’s the rush?

Sure by tomorrow I’ll be completely stressed out again.

But once a week I come back and try all over again.

I’m always grumpy about going. But I’m always glad I did!