Yoga: Bouncing back from burnout

She doesn’t give up, this girl.

Today, she had me horizontal,

On her pink yoga mat

On the carpet

In front of the TV,

Adriane telling her what to lift and when.

 

I liked the horizontal feeling,

Although it was harder than the bed.

I love bed.

Curling up on the memory foam mattress.

Quilt surrounding me.

Feeling him not too far away, his warmth,

His steady breathing.

 

I like it best when she lets me lie flat on the bed,

Her behind sinks in deeper,

Into the mattress.

Her head into the pillow.

I keep straight, well, as straight as I can

A line between neck and behind

But then he tells her,

“You’re snoring”

and she makes me turn on our side.

And after a while, I feel all crooked

And her shoulder complains.

And I have to turn on the other side.

And back and forth.

Like a boat rocking.

 

I don’t mind being on a boat.

Like in my early years,

When she lived on the boat,

That gave me a lot of exercise

Stretching, straightening

Bending, running on sand,

Swimming in the sea.

With flippers

A mask on her face

A snorkel

 

The warm sun on me,

On my shoulders

Her sister rubbing suntan lotion

On me, so I wouldn’t burn

But I don’t do that.

Rarely.

I just turn brown.

Tan.

Not like the front parts

They are too sensitive.

The breasts burn,

That spot just above the bikini

The butt, just below the bikini pants

Or on the hips.

Not me.

I just tan.

I carry the weight,

I carry the sunshine.

When we used to live in the sun.

 

But now, it’s rainy outside

Like this morning,

Drops all over the front window.

She pulled the shades up.

But it was still dark in the house.

At least she could see the TV screen

The sun didn’t hide the picture.

There was Adriane,

telling her how to stretch.

 

Yes, stretch me! Don’t just lean me against a chair

Or a sofa – where I sink in and lose my shape.

“Heart to the sky” says Adriane

And I rejoice when she pulls down her shoulders

And pulls back her shoulder blades

And tucks in our tailbone

Not all the way; just right,

Just straight.

And her neck –

She wiggles it from side to side

Up and down,

Her nose goes in a circle.

 

I stretch up and high,

Then down and down and suddenly

Without warning I’m in an upside down V shape

“Downward dog” they call it – but no one is barking

I want to stay here,

But the shoulders tell me, “Um, remember, that frozen time we had,”

And I send the message to her

And she tucks into a ‘child pose,’

Where I could sleep all winter

Through all those icy wet droplets

Those grey days

I could just repose

In child’s pose.

* * *

 

But we go on,

A plank.

Another one.

She is breathing, heavily

Deeply. Slowly.

I want to help out, but when she sits down,

I curve out

Like I always do.

Heart up, she says to me, and I do my best.

Fingers supporting me from behind.

Breath supporting us all.

 

Okay, yoga mat, you win; I cooperate

The best I can.

They say it will get better.

I hope so, really.

At least she’ll take me to the physiotherapist

This week.

He’ll massage me,

Get rid of the knots

Smooth my stress.

I do my best.

Really I do.

I do.