At the age of fifty-one my mother took-up yoga after a girls’ getaway to Canyon Ranch Resort during the spring of 2002. While at the beautiful health spa, my once skeptical mother decided to take a class listed as restorative yoga, which involves the use of props such as blankets, bolsters, straps, and blocks to help students into extremely relaxing and healing postures that help relieve symptoms of chronic stress. Typically only five or six poses are performed in one class, the majority being executed on the ground, and each pose is held anywhere from five to ten minutes, ultimately “restoring” the body.
Upon hearing the instruction that she was going to be in one position, concentrating on nothing else other than her breath for ten minutes, my mother freaked out and thought there was no way she could do it—no way could she sit still and just breathe for ten minutes. But, before she knew it the ten minutes had flown by, and the instructor was guiding the class out of the first pose and into the second. As soon as the teacher had lead them into the next position, and the enchanting music infused the air, she once again fell into an extremely relaxed state. Upon leaving the class she felt so relaxed and rejuvenated, my mother knew that yoga was definitely something she wanted to try again. For the remainder of her stay at Canyon Ranch she attended daily restorative yoga classes. Jazzed she actually liked yoga, which was becoming exceedingly popular, she then found a great local studio five minutes from the house, and spent the rest of the summer attending yoga classes, learning the basic fundamentals of a hatha yoga (the physical branch of yoga consisting of yoga poses or postures called asanas) practice.
The positive changes were evident almost immediately. Since we had been kids, my brother and I repeatedly witnessed the unraveling of my mother. She would yell, scream, cry, and lose it over what we thought were the silliest things. Granted she had plenty of validity to be stressed, not only was she raising her two children, but two step-children as well as working full-time, and keeping the perfect house. But, that wasn’t it. She was unable to distinguish between minor annoyances and major cataclysms, resulting in a permanent frantic state. Yoga changed all of that.
During her last few years of teaching (she taught first and second grade for thirty years) she was able to make it to yoga once, maybe twice, a week—enough to radically shift her temperament. The woman, who perpetually carried on five conversations in her head, was learning to become quiet and remain still, to breathe slower, and to focus her attention. She became noticeably calmer, more rational, happier, and peaceful. Yoga has taught her to let go of the small stuff and, although her house is still spotless, she no longer panics if the carpet remains un-vacuumed for 24 hours. She is more grounded, her personal relationships have improved, and she no longer screams, well, not nearly as much. I have witnessed a transformation in my mother beyond words. Not only has she become more coordinated, but also she is more confident, comfortable with herself, and empowered to try new things. Naturally she wanted to share the gift with me—the gift of yoga.
