Yoga...Part 2

Ah...my second shot at active yoga. She was much easier on us, maybe only half my muscles will ache this time? But let me explain how this session worked.

She had us sit cross-legged on the floor on top of our blocks, hands on knees, palm up. She made that Ohm sound you hear about. Boy, was she good at it! It reverberated through my body. I had to check to make sure it wasn't coming from a CD. Nope. It was her. Very on-key. But I digress. Our job was to empty our minds and concentrate on each breath we inhaled and exhaled. At least, that's what I gathered. The acoustics are still lousy in the gym, and I'm still half-deaf. Okay, so I sat there, back straight, listening to the Ohms and half-wondered where she learned to make that sound the way she did...and then I stopped myself.

I was supposed to empty my mind, remember.

So I stared at the mat-covered walls of the gym and wondered what would happen if we had an earthquake. Where would I run? Was it safer to stand next to the wall? Never mind that I live in an area that doesn't get many earthquakes, and when there is an earthquake it's barely noticeable. Still, I remembered reading somewhere never to stand in a doorway, so I knew better than to hide there should the earth tremble and shake.

Then I remembered I was supposed to empty my mind.

But time was up, and all I had to show for it was a mental note to google earthquake evacuation when I returned home.

After we bent our limbs in unnatural positions for another 45 minutes, we returned to the state of emptying our minds, this time laying down on our mats, facing the ceiling. Relax, was the mantra. Relax and feel your breath go in and out...

Straight above me was the long, metal rod that held the curtain partition, which was now in the open position. I mused about the possibility that if the chains holding the rod in place were to break, it would come down and split my body in two.

This yoga stuff was not at all relaxing.

Finally, we were released back into the world. I stood, dusted myself off, and was ever grateful that sore muscles would be the only damage I'd end up with during my workout. So I suppose, in a way, I can't complain if I ache for a few days.

As if a mother could actually empty her mind. Right.