Warrior Pose (55 page)

I focus even more and deepen every inhalation, willing it with all my might to begin in my pelvic bowl and then seeking to pull it to the top of my head. Of course, I'm only filling my lungs with my breath, but the visualization helps me draw my diaphragm down and lengthen my lungs for a much fuller inhale. The effects are profound. After a dozen or so breaths, I feel like I'm floating a few feet above my body.

“You're doing a good job,” Rene encourages me, “but don't strain. Keep everything relaxed but your lungs and diaphragm. Deeper now.” The Peter Pan playfulness I witnessed in the spa is completely gone. This is all business.

Another dozen breaths and it begins to come naturally. Every cell in my body is lightly buzzing and I feel like I'm floating somewhere above the dock, going higher and higher. Just as I think I might leave my body altogether and soar into the stratosphere, Rene gently brings me down.

“Relax your breath now. No effort. Just let the air breathe you. Listen to it gently rise and fall like a wave. As you do this, gaze into the darkness behind your closed eyes. This is the inner universe. Don't look for anything specific. Just notice.”

After a minute or so, an array of incredibly intricate, geometric patterns begin to emerge behind my closed eyes. They are multicolored and bedazzling, occasionally swirling like distant galaxies in endless space. My body relaxes to an even deeper level while I watch the light show. I'm completely mesmerized.

“Let this go now.” I can barely hear Rene and I've lost all sense of time and place. “We'll relax your body even more now. Begin by noticing your toes… the soles of your feet… your ankles… your calves… now, your knees…”

She guides my awareness slowly through my body, from the tips of my toes to the crown of my head. It's like the body scans Savita led me through at the Pain Center, only vastly deeper. Although I've never felt so relaxed in my life, I still find tension in certain muscles and joints when Rene brings my attention to these areas. This experience reminds me once again how much stress I hold without even knowing it's there.

“Relax your emotions now,” Rene continues. “Let go of all past hurts, all obstacles, all self-doubt, all resentment, anger, and fear. Accept who you are, be at peace with yourself.”

Every time I softly exhale, I can feel more of my deep-seated emotional pain melting away. It's as if the gentle waters of the bay are flowing through me and cleansing old wounds. Believe me, I still have a ton of them. I've been denying the innermost layers of my emotional stuff for so many years that this process is going to take a lot more time. Still, I feel a deep level of healing from the hurts I am able to release, and I know I've found just the teacher I need.

As we conclude our session, Rene brings me back into my body and breath. She has me lie on my side, curled up like a fetus for a few minutes, then gently press myself up to seated. Once she unwraps the cloth covering my head, I open my eyes. It's like seeing the world for the very first time. Everything is alive with a visible vibration of energy. I can see it clearly in the palm trees flanking the bay and the lush floral gardens of the hotel, in the large pelican sitting on the railing of the dock a few feet from me, and permeating the clear, blue sky. It's
Prana
, the life force of all things that Yoga speaks of so clearly, including the life force within me. It's been there all along, within me and around me, but I've never been present enough to experience it.

I gaze at Rene and see her radiating with the same energy. There's no need for words. It's a profound, silent understanding. I bring my palms together at my heart and whisper,
Namaste
.

CHAPTER 36

The Studio

M
Y GIRLFRIENDS JUST told me the first Yoga studio in town has opened up near the beach!” Pamela shares this with me enthusiastically one June evening, knowing it will be the biggest news I've heard in years. Even though there is distance between us, she still always seeks to be supportive and upbeat. It's always been one the greatest things about her.

“Where? Is there a phone number? Website? Address?” Hurrying over to my computer, I'm filled with questions and want to check it out immediately. I can't find a website or phone listing, but after calling Pamela's friends, I finally get the location. The studio is on the subterranean level of a two-story restaurant and shopping complex near the Hotel Del, just three blocks from our home.

Along with private sessions with Rene, I've attended the Yoga classes at the Marriott spa regularly, but they are very basic and the noise of the televisions and exercise machines in the room next door are disruptive and unsettling. I still don't feel ready to drive over the bridge to San Diego looking for a studio, so this is a godsend.

The following morning, I'm at the new studio a half-hour early for the first Yoga class of the day. No one has arrived yet to open the door and I'm the only person in the underground hallway. It's a long, dark, and drab tunnel, but I feel like a child at Disneyland. Peering through the studio windows, I see a small space, only about five hundred square feet, with glossy wood floors and mirrored walls
on two opposing sides. This makes it seem more expansive, like the effect of the mirrors in my Himalayan cave. The far wall of the studio has two narrow windows at the top that allow some sunlight in from the ground level. It's the first Yoga studio I've ever seen and I find it beyond beautiful.

“Good morning. You're here so early!” I hear this welcoming voice from behind me as I continue to survey the studio. “Hi, I'm Linda. My husband, Jean-Pierre, and I are the owners of the studio. I see you have a Yoga mat. There are blankets and straps in a small closet inside if you need them.”

Linda is short and fit, with abundant, curly black hair flowing almost to her waist. She radiates health, which doesn't surprise me because every Yoga teacher I've met seems to be this way. Despite her American name, she looks exotic, perhaps Middle Eastern in heritage. Her vibrant smile is welcoming. Her voice is deep and embracing. She unlocks the door and wheels a lectern into the hallway, then has me pay the class fee. A few other students begin to arrive, all women and, like Linda, in much better shape than I. Hoping to hide, I roll my mat out in the back of the room—but with mirrors on the front and back walls, it's impossible to be invisible.

We're seated cross-legged on our mats as class begins. Linda puts on gentle Yoga music and takes her seat facing us. Her strong presence quiets the chatter and brings everyone into stillness and silence. As I close my eyes, it feels like a blanket of peace is descending on the room, just like I experience during sunrise on the bay or when I practice in my cave.

“Good morning. I'm Linda. Thank you for being here. Please take a few deep breaths. Let yourself feel peaceful and grounded, getting ready for our practice this morning.” Linda exudes loving kindness yet has amazing command of the room. After a few gentle, seated poses to limber up, she has us stand at the front of our mats and begins taking us through a series of energetic and challenging Yoga poses. All the Yoga poses I've done so far have been restorative. They are performed down on the mat, lying on my stomach or back, or up on my hands and knees. I've seen these standing poses in my books, but feared they were too much for me. I'm about to learn how right I was.

In a pose called Warrior, we stand in a lunge with our front legs bent deeply at the knee and our back legs straight on the mat behind us, lifting our torsos and reaching our arms high into the air. It's much harder than the lunge I've been doing with my back knee down on the mat. Everyone else in the room has a wide stance and deep lunge. My legs are less than three feet apart and my lunge is minimal. By the second breath, the thigh of my front leg is on fire and I'm having trouble keeping my balance. After a few more breaths, I realize I just can't do this and I'm silently begging Linda to let me out of the posture. I barely make it when we switch sides and place the other foot forward.

In the Triangle Pose, we take a wide stance with both legs straight and extended laterally, bringing one arm down toward our forward ankle while extending our other arm up into the air, forming a triangle. I can't reach anywhere near my ankle and have to hold my knee. Both my hamstrings begin to burn like hot lava. I feel awkward and unstable. After three breaths, I lose my balance and fall down. A few students glance at me, but most seem not to notice as they continue to hold their triangle with perfection.

“Just listen to your body, don't push it. Wherever you are in your practice is just where you're meant to be.” Everyone else is relaxed and at ease in Triangle Pose. It's clear Linda's words of comfort are for me as she brings a Yoga block and places it on my mat by my front ankle, instructing me to hold it with one hand so I don't fall again. It's the same type of dense, rubbery blue block shaped in a rectangle that Savita used at the Pain Center to help me stabilize my body in certain poses. Here, in front of the other students, it feels like a crutch and a blush of embarrassment floods across my face. Worse, I still can't handle the pose.

All the other standing poses are equally challenging, and it gets even tougher for me when we balance on our right legs, lifting our left knees up toward our chest. I tremble, wobble side to side, and completely lose it. It's even harder to balance on my left leg, which has always been my nemesis because it's the leg that was damaged when I had polio as a three-year-old child, and it was the left pedicle bone of my lumbar vertebra that broke when I fell off the ledge
during the storm in the Bahamas in 1986. Of course, everyone else in class is holding this Balance Pose with ease. Because they're all female, it's fabulous medicine for my male ego. I wonder if I'm not in so far over my head that I shouldn't just roll up my mat and sneak out the door.
Get up, Daddy
. I start the mantra and vow to stay with the class no matter what.
I'm in all the way
. Of course, this is when it gets tougher still.

We begin Sun Salutations, which are a series of powerful poses harmonized with the breath and woven together in a flowing sequence. We begin by standing at the front of our mats, inhaling our arms high into the air, then exhaling and folding forward at the hips, reaching down toward our toes. We inhale and step one leg back into an extended lunge, exhale and step the other leg back as well, planting our palms on our mats while lifting our hips high into the air in what is called “Downward Facing Dog.” On the inhale, we bring our hips down to the mat, press into our palms and lift our upper torsos, creating a deep backbend called “Upward Facing Dog.” On the exhale we push back to Downward Dog again. Then we step one leg forward back into the lunge, followed by bringing the other leg forward into a standing forward fold again. We end by inhaling and lifting our torsos up, reaching for the sky, exhaling, and bringing our palms to our heart centers.

At least that is how it's supposed to go. I'm not anywhere near flexible or strong enough to perform the Sun Salutation sequence properly. Downward Dog is impossible. So is Upward Dog. Halfway through the first round, my arms and legs are like limp noodles, my Yoga mat is an ocean of sweat, and I can't keep pace. By the end of the second round, I give up and lie down on my mat, almost hyperventilating, while the rest of the class completes a third and final round. I stay down while Linda leads the class through a few more standing poses. As she continues to instruct everyone, she somehow finds time to come over and guide me into Child's Pose, seated on my knees with my head bowing toward the floor and my buttocks down toward my heels.

“Don't worry about not being able to do everything,” she whispers as she gently presses her palms into my aching lower back muscles.
“You're doing great.” Linda compassionately provides the affirmation I need at precisely the right moment. I thought I was progressing so rapidly in my cave, and now I realize how far there is to go. I don't know whether to laugh or to cry, so I just breathe as deeply as I can and remind myself again,
I'm all in.

The last portion of the class involves restorative poses. I'm back in my comfort zone and begin to feel more confident about being here. Then comes
Savasana
. This time I really do feel like a corpse as I lie on my back and almost melt into oblivion. Before I know it, I'm asleep. A few minutes later, as everyone else comes up to a seated posture for the end of class, the student next to me gives me a nudge and smiles as I groan my way slowly back up. I can't help but wonder if I've been snoring like a drunken sailor.