A few years ago I thought yoga was something young, slender things did that required flexibility and the ability to contort their bodies into various weird, but completely unpractical poses. After all, what useful application was there in being able to stand on one leg muttering ‘Om’ and pretending to be a lotus flower? I couldn’t even touch my toes…so what good was I, a 50-something menopausal mother, going to be?
It was a desire to find something I could share with my then-teenage daughter which initially set me on the yoga path but even that would, like many good intentions, have floundered if we had not happened upon our wonderful yoga teacher.
Now I can touch my toes…but more than that, I have a respect and love for my body. And trust me, I am still not a slender young thing. I am now an even older 50-something and still menopausal (when does that ever end by the way?).
The problem I faced was how to keep yoga in my life without it going the way of so many other things. We all struggle with it. We know things that are good for us but can still become a chore however much we relish the after-glow. The achievement of attending a yoga class still meant finding the energy at the end of a tiring day to get back in the car, or finding time in the evening when there is so much else to fit in. And, to be honest, sometimes it’s just easier to stay on the sofa.
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October 2017
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