Forgiveness and my sore ass

Tonight I learned a lesson in forgiveness. Don't worry I am not going to get all biblical. This is a straight up shallow exploration of the concept.

Shocking. I know.

So I was in yoga class tonight having recently rededicated myself to the practice (well at least $130 worth of dedication) after a two year absence. In LA yoga was a big part of my life. I was a regular ol' yogi.

Actually, when I first moved there, I was so poor that my girlfriend and I traveled within a hour -trafficless- radius, going studio to studio, trying out all of the free sample classes just so that we didn't have to pay. We managed to take class a minimum of 3 nights a week for a year and a half before we ever had to pay. It was how I learned to traverse the giant ameba that was LA like a true native.

Tonight as I silently muttered obscenities to myself while straining to relax (?!?!?) into warrior two, I deeply resented my two year sabbatical.

In Russia, it wasn't necessary. Daily ballet and movement classes with crazy ex-primas and crazier Droznine proteges were enough. When I got back I spent so much time traveling it wasn't possible and when I finally made my way to KC my new found man agitation called for something a little more aggressive - boxing. Then business and desk jobs and rehearsals and lots and lots of beer happened and now I am back looking for my zen.

But here is the deal IT JUST KEEPS PISSNG ME OFF! And my yoga nazi was not making it any better because while she is a great teacher, yoga instructors have always freaked me out. You would expect them to be ethereal and new age-y but they are like muted terriers, all calm and sweet until you say something to unnerve them and then those feisty little f-ers will tear your shins off.

I blame my movement teacher in college. While other kids were taking Calculus 500, I was getting reamed out by a used-to-be hippie with a hair petting fetish for my inability to perfect 'shape flow.' Seven years later, I still don't have a clue what I was supposed to have been doing other than waving my arms around and swaying side to side.

Or when Larrisa Barissana, the 90 year old commie ballerina would scream, "Lee-SAYYY!!! SEEET DOWN!" as I attempted to lower my gargantuan ass into plie.

So I am movement inept but yoga! - yoga was something I could do. FINALLY! After years of struggle, a form of athleticism I could get down with. Where else do you get to end class with a nap!? And I liked how it made my body feel. I liked that I sweated. And I liked that I felt challenged.

And now it is gone. All the hard work, years of conditioning, gone. I am back to where I started only now I am older, chubbier and stiffer from a life behind a computer.

So tonight I exercised forgiveness with my mind and my body. Moving with the rhythm of my breath, accepting that there is an arduous journey in front of me if I would like to find the joy my body and mind found before.

And that is okay.