I am in my eighth year of hot Yoga. And I have been doing it for sure twice a week on average. Often more, once even the 30-day challenge. And I can guarantee that I always come out feeling better than when I walk into the hot studio in Queens Crescent. I’ve tried the one in the City and Primrose Hill, besides the one in Berlin, but who cares what the surroundings are. What matters is the heat, the wisdom of the postures and the style of the trainer that is hopefully agreeable to your own nature.
Tonight I felt as rotten as possible. But it was maybe the Italian white-haired lady in the bus who asked about my wonderful walking sticks and suggested that I should invoke my ‘healing energies’. Or else it was the oodles of yawns that got rid of stress that had settled down in my lungs. Or maybe it was simply time for me to heal and come closer to the promise of this dream of two years ago: at the end of the summer you will be pain free. Which summer, I keep wondering?
Well, I was FAR from pain free during today’s class. In fact, I was ‘marvelling’ at the way in which my body could make itself known to me through sensations that can only be called painful. But it is REPAIRING itself! Why should it not hurt, when the whole left leg has to turn itself more and more towards its inside? Hip, thigh, knee, ankle and foot. Joints, muscles, tendons and ligaments. Everything move, all together, please! (more…)