What it looks like when a mom of a teenager does yoga
by Betsy Shaw posted in Parenting
I showed up late for yoga the other day. I was that person who had to ask the other reclining yogis in the room, the ones who have already drawn imaginary borders around their mats, to shove over and make room for frazzled me and my dog-hair-strewn mat.
I unfurled my mat and sat down, feeling like an escaped prisoner. The sun slanting through the windows cast a perfect, shadow-and-light grid on the wooden floor. The pristine yoga studio is the antithesis of my chaotic house and life. Too bad my mind isn't so "pristine."
"Get in a comfortable position," the teacher said.
I lay back and let my knees fall open like a frog, and sighed.
Why are my hips so tight" I read once, tight hips means a resistance to moving forward. I don't really believe in that hippy dippy crap.... but it kind of makes sense" "Feel the weight of your body meeting the floor. You are an ice cube in water. There is no fixed end and no fixed beginning."
I am an ice queen, is what I am. Why do I get so bitchy with Esther" When I go back and read our texts, I seem like the snarky teen and she's the measured grown up.
 "Keep your mind present. Breathe through your nose."
Did I forget to use deodorant" It's fear... fear makes me mean. What am I afraid of" Why do I second-guess and worry, so much worry"
"Set your intentions."
Patience. Faith. Gratitude.
Oh God. Do I have to choose just one&...
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