Yogahhhhh...
"Om sarve bhavantu sukinahasarve santu niraamayaha..." drones the guru.
"Om sahr...vi... baktu.. suckingha serve... sum.. um..." I mutter.
And so begins a day of yoga. Through the ever-amazing CC connections, the other students and I are able to take classes at Iyengar Yoga, one of the most famous yoga institutions in the world. Normally, a person needs to have studied yoga for half a dozen years before being able to step inside the hallowed halls (without shoes, of course). But thanks to the Drama/Dance Department at Colorado College, us inexperienced, inflexible Americans get the full experience. And what an experience it's been.
I can proudly say that I can touch my toes now. OK, you're laughing, but I'm serious. I rationalize that I have abnormally long legs, but the truth is, I'm just not that flexible. I used to play sports when I was younger (seriously, ask my Mom), but when high school rolled around, I chose afternoons of drama and The Legend of Zelda over soccer. I haven't looked back in regret, although wincing when I stretch my arms over my head shoots momentary burts of motivation through my veins. Allright, this is it, Miss Lee. Tomorrow you start running.
Which is all well and good, until the actual exercise starts. Then my inner voice goes, well, at least you tried. Ok, you barely tried. Let's go read a book and feel better abour ourselves. And we're suddenly plural, by the way, Sarah. And so it goes. But being in India, not even the Voice of Eternal Laziness could think of a reason not take the amazing offer and join these classes. And they've been excellent. It's funny, but even though I'm supposed to be aware of my body, I'm not especially. When I say I'm "supposed" to be aware, I'm 1.) a teenage girl, and 2.) an actor. But I just don't think about it much.
Maybe that's why they say that yoga is as much a mental exercise as a physical one. True, the stretching hurts the most, but it's incredible how much control I can regain over my shuddering calves by breathing deeply and focusing. For two hours each week, I don't care about the rickshaws blaring outside or the lack of good sourdough bread. Oops, the internet cafe is closing. More later.
Love,
Sarah!
"Om sahr...vi... baktu.. suckingha serve... sum.. um..." I mutter.
And so begins a day of yoga. Through the ever-amazing CC connections, the other students and I are able to take classes at Iyengar Yoga, one of the most famous yoga institutions in the world. Normally, a person needs to have studied yoga for half a dozen years before being able to step inside the hallowed halls (without shoes, of course). But thanks to the Drama/Dance Department at Colorado College, us inexperienced, inflexible Americans get the full experience. And what an experience it's been.
I can proudly say that I can touch my toes now. OK, you're laughing, but I'm serious. I rationalize that I have abnormally long legs, but the truth is, I'm just not that flexible. I used to play sports when I was younger (seriously, ask my Mom), but when high school rolled around, I chose afternoons of drama and The Legend of Zelda over soccer. I haven't looked back in regret, although wincing when I stretch my arms over my head shoots momentary burts of motivation through my veins. Allright, this is it, Miss Lee. Tomorrow you start running.
Which is all well and good, until the actual exercise starts. Then my inner voice goes, well, at least you tried. Ok, you barely tried. Let's go read a book and feel better abour ourselves. And we're suddenly plural, by the way, Sarah. And so it goes. But being in India, not even the Voice of Eternal Laziness could think of a reason not take the amazing offer and join these classes. And they've been excellent. It's funny, but even though I'm supposed to be aware of my body, I'm not especially. When I say I'm "supposed" to be aware, I'm 1.) a teenage girl, and 2.) an actor. But I just don't think about it much.
Maybe that's why they say that yoga is as much a mental exercise as a physical one. True, the stretching hurts the most, but it's incredible how much control I can regain over my shuddering calves by breathing deeply and focusing. For two hours each week, I don't care about the rickshaws blaring outside or the lack of good sourdough bread. Oops, the internet cafe is closing. More later.
Love,
Sarah!
posted by Sarah! at 9:18 AM
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