‘Namaste!’
(Disclaimer: What follows is my contribution to a blog site that my friend was setting up.)
When I was a child, I loved the feeling of the wind slapping me in the face whenever I go for a run. I loved being able to stretch and do inversion yoga poses — or, at least, I’d like to believe I was able to do a shoulder stand!
But, you know, the active youth hadn’t stayed with me.
Slowly, I had forgotten the joy of bathing in my own sweat. Because there were too many school assignments to work on, and there was pressure from my parents to do well in school, I began to loathe the idea of physical education classes. I know, this is quite odd for someone who used to dream of being a marathoner. (Yes, I actually wanted to be a marathoner at some point in my life!) But I used to think that the two hours spent per week for P.E. would have been better devoted to reviewing for a science quiz.
As I grew to adulthood and became more focused on what Antoine de Saint-Exupery would call “matters of consequence”, I have neglected the importance of physical fitness in my life.
It all started with my daily afternoon doses of cola and junk food. I thought, I owed this to myself because I survived a hard day at school. Year by year, my food choices would evolve, too. From potato chips, I had craved for chicken skin and barbecued intestines, then pizza and burgers.
Now, I would award myself with a gallon of ice cream and lechon de Cebu every now and then for a good job at work.
It’s not healthy, but it’s yummy. And I have this farcical belief that yummy is good, always good.
Until it dawned on me: I do not know for how long, but I cannot reach my toes now. My hands can no longer hold each other when I do a back stretch. And my tummy, forever bloated. There’s simply no hiding my muffin top anymore.
I want to be fit.
It took me a month, Googling which yoga studios are near my place, what classes are offered and how much will a walk-in class cost? I had doubts; I knew I wasn’t flexible enough. And I knew that I’m far from looking like those women you see when you do a quick image search on yoga. I cannot wear pink leggings and look cute. I cannot wear a tank top and feel comfortable. I just cannot wear any of those clothes websites will tell you to wear.
After some months, I finally mustered enough courage to show up in a yoga studio.
I was wearing a loose black shirt (so the sweat won’t show!) and black baggy pants. I can only imagine the horror fashion gods and goddesses would have felt that time! But it was one of those rare moments when I didn’t care about what people were thinking anymore.
I was doing it for myself.
I was anxious when I first entered the yoga studio. But as we progressed pose after pose, I realized everyone in that room has struggles of her own. No one cared how I labored to do the downward-facing dog pose. No one noticed how my knees would shake during lunges. No one bothered to look at me. Everyone was concerned with her own balancing act.
That’s the first thing yoga taught me: just do it, not for anyone else but for yourself.
The most recent yoga class I joined had me doing bridge poses, while the advanced yoginis were already doing head stands. I didn’t have to look around to feel like the odd one out in the studio. But whatevs, I told myself. “Just do that freakin’ bridge pose!”
And this may apply to any endeavor you have in your life now.
Want to start a morning routine, perhaps jog around your neighborhood, but too scared to look like an elephant trying too hard to be a cheetah? Just do it!
Want to go in that gym that’s just a stone’s throw away from your workplace but unsure whether you’d be able to keep up with the exercises after a long day at work? Just do it!
Dying to finally try that calligraphy class but afraid people might think you’re simply joining the hype? Just do it!
And, every day, look in the mirror and say, “Namaste (which more or less means “I honor the divine in you”)! Imma slay!” •
When I was a child, I loved the feeling of the wind slapping me in the face whenever I go for a run. I loved being able to stretch and do inversion yoga poses — or, at least, I’d like to believe I was able to do a shoulder stand!
But, you know, the active youth hadn’t stayed with me.
Slowly, I had forgotten the joy of bathing in my own sweat. Because there were too many school assignments to work on, and there was pressure from my parents to do well in school, I began to loathe the idea of physical education classes. I know, this is quite odd for someone who used to dream of being a marathoner. (Yes, I actually wanted to be a marathoner at some point in my life!) But I used to think that the two hours spent per week for P.E. would have been better devoted to reviewing for a science quiz.
As I grew to adulthood and became more focused on what Antoine de Saint-Exupery would call “matters of consequence”, I have neglected the importance of physical fitness in my life.
It all started with my daily afternoon doses of cola and junk food. I thought, I owed this to myself because I survived a hard day at school. Year by year, my food choices would evolve, too. From potato chips, I had craved for chicken skin and barbecued intestines, then pizza and burgers.
Now, I would award myself with a gallon of ice cream and lechon de Cebu every now and then for a good job at work.
It’s not healthy, but it’s yummy. And I have this farcical belief that yummy is good, always good.
Until it dawned on me: I do not know for how long, but I cannot reach my toes now. My hands can no longer hold each other when I do a back stretch. And my tummy, forever bloated. There’s simply no hiding my muffin top anymore.
I want to be fit.
It took me a month, Googling which yoga studios are near my place, what classes are offered and how much will a walk-in class cost? I had doubts; I knew I wasn’t flexible enough. And I knew that I’m far from looking like those women you see when you do a quick image search on yoga. I cannot wear pink leggings and look cute. I cannot wear a tank top and feel comfortable. I just cannot wear any of those clothes websites will tell you to wear.
After some months, I finally mustered enough courage to show up in a yoga studio.
I was wearing a loose black shirt (so the sweat won’t show!) and black baggy pants. I can only imagine the horror fashion gods and goddesses would have felt that time! But it was one of those rare moments when I didn’t care about what people were thinking anymore.
I was doing it for myself.
I was anxious when I first entered the yoga studio. But as we progressed pose after pose, I realized everyone in that room has struggles of her own. No one cared how I labored to do the downward-facing dog pose. No one noticed how my knees would shake during lunges. No one bothered to look at me. Everyone was concerned with her own balancing act.
That’s the first thing yoga taught me: just do it, not for anyone else but for yourself.
The most recent yoga class I joined had me doing bridge poses, while the advanced yoginis were already doing head stands. I didn’t have to look around to feel like the odd one out in the studio. But whatevs, I told myself. “Just do that freakin’ bridge pose!”
And this may apply to any endeavor you have in your life now.
Want to start a morning routine, perhaps jog around your neighborhood, but too scared to look like an elephant trying too hard to be a cheetah? Just do it!
Want to go in that gym that’s just a stone’s throw away from your workplace but unsure whether you’d be able to keep up with the exercises after a long day at work? Just do it!
Dying to finally try that calligraphy class but afraid people might think you’re simply joining the hype? Just do it!
And, every day, look in the mirror and say, “Namaste (which more or less means “I honor the divine in you”)! Imma slay!” •