It’s ironic that I posted last week about losing my voice in a metaphorical sense. Or is it merely coincidental? In any event, the fates have conspired to relieve me of my literal voice for the past few days and consequently, I’ve had to do a lot of thinking (particularly since on the very day my voice left me, my computer was struck down by a virus and left me as well. I am typing on the mini keyboard of our netbook and am praying that I don’t accidentally delete this post when I rest to think). Continue reading
I hurt my elbow doing something really stupid a few weeks ago. As a middle-aged yoga teacher, I’m used to modifying my practice to accommodate my injuries (which include two overextended hamstring origins, an old rotator cuff tweak, and the intermittent low back pain that most of my generation seems to have). I can even let go of my ego sufficiently not to feel obliged to move into–or even attempt–every arm balance, inversion or bind that comes my way. But when my elbow was out of commission, I couldn’t move into any pose where my weight was supported on bent arms. Sun Salutations were out of the question. I couldn’t demo chatturanga for my students. Bakasana, the easiest of all arm balances, was inaccessible. Worst of all, I had a hard time practicing with teachers who inspired me. In a word, it sucked.
At times like these, when someone comes along and talks about how injuries can be our best teachers, I feel more like throttling them than thanking them. Continue reading