More yoga victory! I was in downward dog for half the class. Flowing in Warrior 2, however, pretty much muzzled that dog for the night. But I’ll take the half-class downward dog.
As I sat there meditating at the end, I was thinking of my mom. Actually, I was hearing her voice: “DONNA MARIE!!!!” Yup, you’d all be hearing that from Bellingham to Hopedale if she knew I was at yoga on Ash Wednesday.
When I took my first yoga class a five years ago -- Kundalini yoga, lot of breathing, chanting, etc -- she practically held an exorcism. She was so convinced that I was joining a cult. And still believes yoga is aligned with the forces of darkness.
I’m a good Catholic girl. I enjoy my religion. Hell, I was almost a nun; that’s a story for another day.
When I was a sophomore in high school studying to make my confirmation, religious meditation was a large part of the preparation. It wasn’t much different from the focused breathing and concentration I do now on Wednesday night, except it might have included a prayer. Actually, I still do pray in yoga, but it’s more of a “JESUS, that’s tight;” or “Dear God, no cramping please!” not so much a prayer of devotion.
And I’m not taking God’s name in vain. I know God has fun with me; he has to given all the situations he puts me in. I’m not a God-is-my-co-pilot fanatic; (God’s actually on my roof rack; he’s my deer sensor), but I gotta believe The Big Man has done a little yoga himself.
He just hasn’t shared that secret with Mom, yet.
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