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Davis Journal

Life and Laughter - A Bit of a Stretch

Feb 08, 2023 05:08PM ● By Peri Kinder

If you’d told me 20 years ago that I’d be a yoga instructor, I’d have laughed hard enough to tear a hamstring because I was very inflexible. 

I took my first yoga class as a dare. My tennis instructor laughed at how tight I was and challenged me to try yoga. I hated every minute of that stupid class. I hated the words and I hated the poses and I hated the teacher and I loathed downward facing dog with a fiery passion.

But I realized my tennis instructor was right. My muscles were as tight as two-by-fours, but less bendy. So I kept going back to yoga. Hated it every single time. 

After about two months of practicing yoga, I noticed, little by little, my flexibility was improving. I could almost touch my toes without the usual amount of grunting and tears. My hips didn’t scream out loud while doing pigeon pose. My shoulders dropped away from my ears, where I’d held them at strict attention for decades. Even my back stopped hurting each time I rolled out of bed. 

I grudgingly had to admit yoga wasn’t the hippy-dippy dumpster fire I thought it was. But learning the poses was just the beginning. As I explored yoga’s history, philosophy and favorite recipes, I came to realize yoga was a lifestyle that encouraged, nay demanded, self-love and compassion. 

Yikes. As a lifelong subscriber to self-loathing, I wasn’t sure how to handle that type of ideology. Just like when I started the physical practice, I took lots of tiny, baby steps toward accepting myself as a worthy human. 

Fast forward 20 years and not only do I teach yoga but I LOVE yoga with a fiery passion. Yoga has changed me in so many ways. I used to be sarcastic, cynical and snarky but after studying yoga for so many years, I’m a sarcastic, cynical and snarky yoga instructor. 

See. People change. 

I’m also much less judgmental. I’m not so hard on myself and I give most people the benefit of the doubt. Most people. Maybe someone can propose a bill that would require our legislators to take a yoga class each morning before discussing the divisive and harmful bills proposed this year. Okay, when it comes to our lawmakers, I’m still pretty judgmental. 

Being a yoga instructor is super silly. As an instructor, I get to say things in class that don’t make a whole lot of sense, and my students listen to me!

I’ll say, “Breathe in through your collar bones, breathe out through your kneecaps. Inhale to fill up your armpits, exhale to release tension in the ear lobes.” 

Or I’ll instruct students to “Melt into the mat, send energy out of your fingertips, ground through your sitz bones, wring out your body and lengthen the crown of your head.” And I’m totally serious. (Laugh emoji)

My yoga practice has evolved from trying to do the most difficult poses and making my students sweat and swear, to focusing on deep stretches and stress-reducing breathing exercises. 

It isn’t about who can be the bendy-est or the one who can hold crow pose for five minutes. It’s about appreciating what my body can do today. Not what I think it should do or what I want it to do tomorrow, but what it can accomplish right now. 

I appreciate all the yoga teachers who took this rigid block of a body and mind and transformed it into a pliable, warm and accepting human being. My hamstrings thank you.