Yeah, I turned, gasp, 42 today!! FORTY FRICKIN TWO! It is IMPOSSIBLE, I mean, there must have been some sort of mixup. Problem is that I remember almost every year of those 42 years, except for the like first two or three, so even if there WERE a mixup, that would still make me pretty old. And when I am, God willing, even older, I can have the pleasure of looking back on this and saying, “I thought I was old THEN??!”
Today I asked Oni to adjust me in Supta K. I am really tired of watching myself fall into bad habits with it. And I am really tired of strugglng in front of a room full of people. And I am really tired of not getting my legs behind my shoulders. I miss Sir’s adjustment. He really got those legs up there tightly. But Oni gives a good assist too. Nothing will ever take the place of Sir’s adjustment. I knew that long before I even was able to DO Supta K. Remember how I never could bear to go to the shala when anyone was subbing for him? It was because I couldn’t bear to have anyone else attempt to put me into Supta K. Now, I can do it myself. But I still prefer Sir’s assists. Oni does run a close second, thank goodness. But I have to ask her in advance because there are a lot of people with a lot more needs than me at this moment. In the CT Shala’s triage, I am not much more than a hypochondriac with a pretend fever. But wait until I get to Kapotasana. That should really do a number on all of my Primary poses. Good times.
I wonder how long Primary backslide lasts during advancement in Second. Hopefully not forever. I feel like it’s doing a number on my emotions. I miss doing just Primary, because the world of things I suck at had not yet been opened up to me. When you’re just forward bending, you tend to get quite good at forward bending. Add some backbending in, and you’re in for some serious reminiscing about le beaux jours before you got thrown into the murky, cranky, ouchy waters of Second.
Not that I am deep into Second. But backbending. Ah, backbending. How do I love thee, backbending, let me count the ways.
Hmmm. Must think of something nice to say. Something nice. Yes. Hmmm. Okay, I love the way backbending gives me something to complain about. I love the way backbending makes me aware of the way what goes on in my shoulder effects the way my wrist feels when my hands press me up into a wheel. I loved falling on my head today in dropbacks because I no longer even believe I have any business dropping back. I love looking at people whose backbends are soft and mushy and wet-noodly. It’s so beyond my comprehension, me being all hard and tense and spastic. In backbends, at least. Really, kind of in everything, I think. It’s just that being small and working hard has helped me to fake bendiness. I’m really a tension-loaded spring made of high grade steel. But with enough heat, enough practice, enough whittling away of excess flesh, I can approximate all the poses that require forward bending, twistng or balancing.
And then there are backbends. No amount of weigh loss will help. No amount of muscle. No amount of heat (well, heat helps, but it doesn’t solve the problem entirely). It’s just me, stripped of artifice. It’s humbling, at a time when I don’t particularly feel like being humbled (when, if ever do I want to feel humbled though?).
And of course, the irony: this is why I do this. Because if it were easy, it would be boring.