Today, I rolled out my mat in front of my computer for a blissful 45 minute stretch complements of Yoga Journal online (what a novelty – yoga instruction on the computer- I guess this means I am getting old when basic technology amazes me!)
I press the play button and prepare for my practice. As I move into my first asana, a little voice comes from the hall. “Mommy, what are you doing?” Yoga I tell my five year old daughter (who is today dressed as a princess). “Oh I love yoga, can I do it too?” I hit the pause button and selected a mat from my vast collection of mats (I have spent years looking for the perfect mat and have a nice collection of cast aways), and set my daughter’s mat next to mine on what remains of the postage stamp size piece of bare floor I have cleared in my office (surrounding us is a mountain of stray boxes, bags of Christmas decorations, discarded toys, and those inevitable stacks of mystery papers I never quite get around to filing).
Being a princess yogi now (not to be confused with Cinderella, which she was just 30 seconds ago), I go in search of a pillow for her to sit on (a princess yogi demands comfort in her seated postures). Ok, now back to the practice. I press play and work my way back into Warrior 1. “Mommy, I don’t like this pose. Mommy, I want this yoga show on the TV in the living room, not on the computer. Pleassssse can you move the yoga show to the living room?” With much patience and while holding Triangle, I explain to her the logistics of why we can’t watch the yoga show on the TV. Thirty seconds of quiet fill the room and I move on to a Sun Salutation. “Mommy, I want to take my mat to the living room.” No problem I say (I now have my makeshift yoga studio to myself and everything is quiet).
Moments later (I’m really starting to think this child can sense the exact moment to interrupt an exceptionally wonderful feeling stretch) “Mommy, my mat won’t lay flat on the living room rug – my mat is too bumpy!” After several minutes of fussing and complaining, my daughter eventually arranges her mat in the living room, then goes in search for her tiara (no princess yogi every attempts a practice without one). Finally, the house is quiet once again (except of course for the sounds of Big Bird and Oscar the Grouch having a conversation from the TV in the living room). Only a few more minutes, then I can enjoy a nice long savasana. Hey, practicing at home really isn’t that bad.
As I settle into a relaxing savasana, I close my eyes, take a deep breath and …”Mommy, I’m really thirsty, can I have a drink? Mommy did you know that tree frogs have red eyes? Mommy I really want a drink, and something to eat. Mommy, did you know Big Bird’s teddy bear’s name is Radar? Mommy, Oscar has an elephant in his trashcan! Mommy, are you listening to me?... but by that time I am relaxed enough to ignore the never ending barrage of my five year old and search for a couple of minutes in my happy place (which I have decide from now on is best found san five year old at the Sol studio downtown.)
Namaste,
Tara Fager-Morcock
2 comments:
Tara, thanks. This is a great example of the most challenging yoga practice: real life yoga. I loved your post :)
Oh my, I am laughing out loud. I had nearly the EXACT same experience with my two girls this morning. They took the chaos to a whole new level by taking off their clothes and running around the basement naked, shrieking like banshees as I eased a little deeper into each pose with breath, delightful breath!
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