Yoga: Just Follow Instructions

Yoga is the blocking of mental modifications so that the seer re-identifies with the Self.  – Sage Patanjali

Inhale chest arms up,

Don’t think about the phone call

arms down exhale, bend forward into ragdoll,

the tin plane you have to board,

drop down into plank, then downward dog,

your sister’s voice, the audible shake beneath her words

chaturanga into upward dog

your own fear, freezing you into statue when you hear the news

back to downward dog

until you force yourself to cling to this routine, to get moving

smooth glide into table, then dolphin pose

to kill time until you can get there, reminding yourself to breathe, to flow

then dolphin pushups, forward-back, forward-back, breathe!

to feel your own body struggling

until you are told slide back all the way into child’s pose

to feel something you can control

then back into table, then plank, then up

outside your emotions, you can do this

into warrior one

you are strong, you’ve always known

and warrior two

you get it from him, from dad,

then reverse warrior

who is now on blood thinners, still sleeping

wind-milling arms back down to plank,

after the stroke left him standing in the living room

and repeat on the other side, warrior one, warrior two

trying to check email with a tv remote.

you sweat, you push, cycling through,

Don’t think about how good or bad his waking might be.

then table, then stretch into frog pose. It hurts.

Think only about this simple muscle pain

“Try to relax into it,” the yogini says.

to avoid the other kind of suffering.

“I used to hold this for twenty minutes,” the yogini says.

You know you can’t hold it that long.

She says, “Come to seated, easy crossed legs.”

You feel opened up, elastic,

Inhale chest arms up, reach, lengthen,

yet more vulnerable than ever before

exhale arms down, hands together

knowing what may come next

right at heart’s center.

 

 

Monuments

 

Making Mistakes

If only there were actual branches

and bushes blocking the way,

if only we could mean it

 

when we say, I don’t know how

I got here… I just remember a tornado,

ruby slippers… an oil can… then nothing…

 

But we do know the steps,

the order taken, the view along

the way:  jet plane scraping

 

exclamation points in the sky,

the sunset, so sweetly pale-faced,

the shocked incessant buzz of phone wires,

 

heavy, magnetic, ominous in hindsight,

the entire panoramic movie set,

each detail now Technicolor,

 

vibrant with clandestine gestures.

Didn’t the curling skin of the birch

tell us to turn back before night?

 

Didn’t the stones pinch our feet

trying to warn, push us back,

frighten?  Didn’t we hear

 

our mothers’ voices zing out

from childhood doorsteps like rods

trying to reel us back in?

 

But something beckoned harder

despite the barrage of omens.

Didn’t it. A cloud, a rainbow,

 

a stunning field of poppies.

That’s why we choose this path,

this compelling escape.

 

So what can we do with

the choice now that it’s made,

mitigating circumstances

 

like rust breaking us down

slowing us until we’re stuck

still in this frozen landscape.

 

And after the witch melts,

when we’re out of the woods

and out of the night,

 

are there ever enough heel clicks

to part the thick green curtains

we’ve been hiding behind?