I have a new passion. It involves kinky postures, heavy breathing and blankets.
Before you start penning those "how could you people talk about such things in a family newspaper?" letters, I want you to know I'm talking about yoga.
Every Monday night along with a number of other contortionists, I find myself at Cardinall Hall pretending I'm sufficiently coordinated to attempt this most ancient of arts.
Graceful Liz, our leader, is unfailingly positive. She's just the person you want on your side when your head is under a chair and you're trying to get your legs resting on the back of the chair. And if you think that sounds funny, you should see it. I never realized how hard it is to breathe with all one's accumulated belly fat flying forward. I'm pretty sure that's not what the Hindi masters had in mind.
In that particular manoeuvre, it's no advantage being short. Instead of being halfway up the chair when I'm on my shoulders, my stubby legs are barely up to the seat. However, when standing on one leg and bracing the other against the wall, I feel a little more graceful than my usual Emperor penguin physique allows. Just for a brief shining moment, I felt I could have joined the ranks of prima ballerinas.
I hesitate to confess this, but I have to say my favourite part of yoga is the clearing of the mind one does at the beginning of class. I hesitate because I know some would refuse to believe there's anything to clear. But really it is a marvellous stress reducer. It's hard to concentrate on your daily troubles and figure out which end is supposed to be up at the same time. I've discovered over the course of the past few weeks that I have a foot impediment. My big toe mounds do not want to meet. Instead of being pigeon-toed, I'm duck-footed. I ended up with a jim-dandy cramp in my right foot the other day trying to turn in what nature turns out. The slow motion of beginner yoga may lead one to believe it's an easy exercise, but that is not so. Twisting one's torso into the shape of a corkscrew is definitely a workout. The other great part of the class I love is the relaxation at the end. Lying there without a care in the world with my arms spread and my feet meeting makes imitating a pretzel completely worthwhile. Now, if I could just get the kinks out.
