Doing Yoga, Learning French HEATHER DAVIS
I did a little bit of Yoga with my mother when I was young. It was fun pretending to be a lion or a fish or a snake. The best exercise was when you had to scrunch your face up and stick out your tongue.
I learned a bit more in my high school drama class, but for years I had wanted to take an adult course. Now that I was living in Quebec, I didn't let the mere fact that I didn't understand the language stop me.
I signed up for Le Yoga.
It was a dream class -- the people were nicer than I could have imagined. When they discovered I was English, they all talked to me -- in French and in English.
"So," they would say, "You moved to Drummondville from British Columbia. Why?"
I was a little concerned about being flexible enough. After all, I couldn't come close to touching my toes. But whenever the teacher attempted to introduce a move suitable for a contortionist, they would laugh to say, "as if!" or clap to say, "good show!"
This much I understood.
Also, the mantra: "Je suis la force dans mon universe."
And "inspire, expire..."
Sometimes, when we were lying on our backs, I was less than relaxed, with one eye open to make sure I didn't "detente" too much and miss the next movement. But if I did, the teacher would come over and gently show me how to do it. Everyone understood -- I was language-impaired.
I learned to sit up 'droit', tell my 'droit' from my 'gauche' hand, hug my 'genous,' and massage my 'chevilles.'
I was happy -- and definitely learning some French. But I learned other things, too.
I learned to feel my body -- the blood rushing around inside your arms when you hold them over your head.
I learned that staring at a tiny dot on the wall could help me balance on one foot like a tree.
I learned to lose myself in the stillness. "Ne bouge pas!"
I learned to bend and stretch, and to use my hands and my feet like a child. I learned to feel the ground beneath me.
I learned that sometimes when you're still, disturbing thoughts sneak into your head. I learned that some evenings I could relax while other times it was an impossible task.
I began to appreciate the beauty of small things -- the beauty of now and today, not tomorrow and later.
During the extended 'dentente,' I would listen to the gentle snoring emanating from the guy who always fell asleep, and I would think about the wisdom of the day. I would become philosophical -- translating the quotation every possible way, wondering how exactly she meant it, but never asking.
The last day, it was pretty simple and I understood -- more deeply than I would have before the course.
You are what you eat. (This one I had heard before) You are what you breathe. You are what you think. You are what you do.
If this is true, living in Drummondville, I should be French in no time -- and if I keep doing Le Yoga, I will - hopefully -- be relaxed, too.
Copyright © 2000 Heather Davis/Log Cabin Chronicles/04.2000 |
