Tag Archives: yoga

What If My Collarbones Don’t Want To Smile?

In an effort to turn back my aging, creaky clock, I’ve started doing yoga again.

The benefit of being an aging, creaky clock, of course, is that I know myself pretty well by now.

I know I don’t have to taste watermelon any more because “maybe this time I’ll like it.” I won’t. I don’t. You can’t make me, Sam I Am.

I also know I can find people in the world who, for the right amount of money, will come to my house and do everything I find distasteful. I believe they’re called “housecleaners.”

And I know I will never leave the house to exercise. I have gone to gyms, pools, and yoga studios in my carefree youth, but the promise of good health simply cannot overcome my steadfast inertia. It’s like a religion with me.

So I was delighted when a friend of mine waxed poetic about a website called YogaGlo, where you can stream all kinds of yoga practices for every skill level, every time limit, every body part for something like $18/month. You can perform feats of zen-like dexterity on your carpeted bedroom floor where falling out of your Double Eagle or your Firefly pose won’t break your delicate hip or ego.

I’ve been with it for a couple of months now and am truly loving it. I’m becoming more flexible, my back and neck don’t hurt so much, I sleep better, I’m stronger.

And I’m laughing more because the instructors say entertaining things like …

• Expand through the heart as if your collarbones can smile

• You put it into park and you put your coins in the meter and you allow the weight of your body to drop

• Breathe some space into your hips

• You’re letting your muscles peel away from your bones so you can become a puddle on your mat

• Soften your inner groin

• Shift your gaze from the outer world to the inner world

• Soften your eyes

• Melt the crown of your head into the floor

• Move deeper into your human

• Exhale through the outside of your hips

• Bring a whole new level of intelligence to your foot

I don’t know how to do any of that yet, but I’m going to keep trying.

Maybe I’ll ask my foot for help.

What words of wisdom have you heard from your yogi?