Why I took up yoga (or terminal hipness)

When my basset hounds were alive, I would claim walking the dogs as exercise in response to my physician’s query at my annual physical. Once my bassets went to the Rainbow Bridge, I still had other activities to claim as “exercise,” such as cooking and doing crosswords. After a certain amount of cooking (and eating) and crosswords, I realized I needed to add something more strenuous to my agenda, so I took up boot camp, buying a DVD with some effective 10-minute work-outs. At exercise time, I never found myself saying, “Oh boy, I can’t wait to do boot camp today!” I always felt better afterward, but some days, I would just as soon cook and eat a big bowl of collards and liver (ewww!). Then one day, a friend invited me to join her for a continuing education course offered at the local high school in “Pi-yo,” a combination of Pilates and yoga.

Learning Yoga

As a yoga and Pilates novice, I had some reservations about joining the course. Could I contort my body in unthinkably kinky ways? And what is this business about a “downward dog”? The instructor gently guided us so that both novices and experienced yoga practitioners glided somewhat easily through sun salutations and pigeon poses. The first hour ended without me so much as thinking about trying to peek at a clock during a bridge pose.

I benefitted so much that I was sad to see the 10-week session end. Unlike with boot camp, I looked forward to my weekly “pi-yo” sessions. (No more collards and liver for me!) The instructor was starting a yoga session immediately at a different venue, but my next few months were too unpredictable for me to sign up. So I did the next best thing—after some investigation, I bought a yoga DVD, finding yoga more beneficial to me than Pilates. I had learned enough about the basics of yoga—breathing and poses—that I could follow a virtual instructor. In addition, I have been checking out the yoga DVD’s at local libraries.

No More Hip Pain

I had been ready to visit my physician because of hip discomfort. Indeed, a friend had predicted a future of cortisone shots. After grappling with my tense hips during one massage, my masseuse had shown me some exercises to help keep my hips loose. In spite of my best resolutions, I would forget to do these exercises regularly. Yoga did not just help me manage my hip pain, it resolved my hip pain. (No, I am not terminally hip.) Many yoga poses loosen the hips. In short order, my hip pain had vanished. No more Aleve for me!

Breathing and Relaxation

Yoga also made me much more aware of my breathing—getting that good air in and the bad air out. I learned to breathe in my upper chest, not my belly, and to take full, cleansing breaths. Then I learned to breathe in my belly, like a baby, as one DVD instructor describes it. Those nights when I do not sleep like a baby, breathing like a baby can help me focus on relaxing and going back to sleep.

Posture

As a young girl, I learned about good posture in Girl Scouts and at Charm School. Yoga has reminded me of the importance of good posture, not just so I can walk like a model—of what, I don’t know—but also for the good feeling good posture gives. Stretching the spine, lifting the head, holding the shoulders down and back make for a sense of vitality and well-being.

My Story—Charm School

When I was 12 and my sister 10—the late 1960’s in Baton Rouge—our parents sent us to Charm School at Sears. At Charm School, we were supposed to learn the art of being a lady—how to walk, how to sit, how not to cross our legs, how to put on make-up, how to dress. (I took those lessons to heart and immediately began breaking all of the Lady Rules.) At the end of the session, we had a fashion show to show off our newly-learned talents. To this end, each participant got to choose an outfit from Sears to model. While other girls chose dresses or sporty outfits, I chose a pink nylon nightgown with peignoir. The adults tried their best to convince me to model street clothes. My parents promised to buy me the night clothes if I would just wear street clothes for the fashion show. (We got a 20% discount as Charm School participants.) I stood firm. To their credit, the adults allowed me to model pajamas. Perhaps part of the allure of yoga for me is practicing good posture while wearing clothes that are very similar to pajamas.

NOTE: I still have had no takers in the storytelling challenge. I added the Charm School story to the yoga story partly to encourage readers to TAKE THE CHALLENGE! The offer is open-ended.

Challenge--The Story That Saves Your Life

Imagine that you have accepted a challenge to turn off your cell phone and actually interact with others—your family over dinner, friends at a party, Elvis impersonators at a convention. What do you do?!? You do what people did for centuries before the introduction of the printing press, electricity, or wireless connectivity—tell stories in person!

Whatever Gets You Through the Party

In his book “Whatever Gets You Through the Night: A Story of Sheherezade and the Arabian Entertainments,” (published in 2011 by Princeton University Press), Codrescu uses excerpts from works related to “The Arabian Entertainments” to set up the idea of the frame of storytelling. In one excerpt he quotes L. R. Lied from “Advice to Young Women Based on Literary Themes” (Scholastic Guides, 1899):  “If you can save one life by telling a story, what story will it be? Start thinking about it now, you never know when you’ll be called to tell it.”

Challenge

Sheherazade told stories for 1001 nights in order to save her life and the lives of the virgins of Baghdad. In 500 words or less, what story will you tell to save yourself and perhaps those around you from certain death by boredom during a cell phone challenge? Add your story as a comment to this blog post. Then come back and read the stories. You never know when one might come in handy! (My story comes it at 313 words.)

My Story

One sunny Sunday during the summer of 1979, I was driving south in Louisiana, returning to Baton Rouge from the Shreveport area. About half way through my drive, near Bunkie, I heard the sound of helicopters that assured me I had a flat tire. As I attempted to change it, a nice man pulled over and finished the chore for me. He pointed to a Cajun style house nearby. He said the man there fixed flats. He encouraged me to get my tire fixed before finishing my journey. (Those were the blissful days before 24/7/365.)

I took his advice to heart and pulled into the driveway. However, I found my heart in my mouth when I saw the dilapidated state of this house—cardboard covering missing panes in the door; greasy, tattered curtains. Against my better judgment, I knocked, hoping no one would answer. Alas, the door opened, revealing a gruff fat lady in a ragged, nylon nightgown. A TV in the background blared some Sunday afternoon show. (Clearly, I had interrupted something very important.)

I explained my dilemma. She informed me that her husband fixed flats and called to the back of the house for him. Shortly, a midget ran out to fix my flat. I felt as if I had stopped at some circus in disguise, surprised that the fat lady was not also bearded. A lanky young fellow followed the midget out to help fix my tire. Perhaps he was the circus sword swallower.

At any rate, I made the remainder of my drive, secure in the knowledge that if I had another flat, I would not be stranded. I had a somewhat inexpensive brush with the circus. I collected a wonderful story that for me falls into the truth-is-stranger-than-fiction category. Finally, I know that in today’s world, I never would have had such a local-color experience because of a flat tire.

Be-Lied or Surrounded by Stories

I am going to recount a fictional account that ends with a truth, not with the intent of deception, but with the intent of entertaining you and convincing you to continue reading. In presenting you with this falsehood, am I telling you a lie, that is delivering “a false statement deliberately presented as being true; a falsehood,” as “The American Heritage Dictionary” defines the word? Am I surrounding you with lies, intentional fabrications? No, I am telling you a story, “an account or recital of an event or a series of events, either true or fictitious,” again from the “AHD.”

Here is My Story

My heart has been broken. In true courtly fashion, I have taken to my bed, exhaling copious sighs and refusing all sustenance. I have become pale and thin. At night, I cannot sleep, passing my nights thinking of what might have been—the stories I might have written, had the Yahoo Contributor Network not ended its platform for publication. Then the idea for a new story hits me, and I know what I have to do. I arise from my sweaty bed, eat a big bowl of mashed potatoes, and start another blog! The End.

By Nature, Every Storyteller is a Liar

The truth is that I have started another blog, “Be-Lied,” in order to write about topics other than words. Readers of my first blog, “Be-Worded,” know that the prefix “be-“ means “surrounded by.” I wanted to keep my blog about words separate from a blog about stories or ideas. In contemplating a name for this new blog, I wanted to stay with the idea of “surrounded by.” My very clever husband suggested “Be-Lied,” which I am going to define as “Surrounded by Stories.”

Be-Lied or Whatever Gets You Through the Story

The impetus for beginning “Be-Lied” sprang from two sources. First, the Yahoo Contributor Network is ceasing publication at the end of July, 2014, so I lost a publication platform. Second, while reading Andrei Codrescu’s “Whatever Gets You Through the Night: A Story of Sheherezade and the Arabian Entertainments,” an inspiration struck me. I decided to issue a story-telling challenge. In order to issue that challenge, I decided to start a second blog. (Also, I will transfer some of my publications from the YCN to “Be-Lied.”)  However, to read that challenge, you must read the next entry on “Be-Lied.”