Yoga With Ronna

(Please click on the title for a reading aloud by the author.)

Before heading for yoga class I have a light lunch. Two eggs scrambled with green pepper and scallion, a couple of raw carrots and a slice of toast. After chopping the scallions I notice one or more of the slender tubes had dirt in it. Frustrated, I search though the slices on the cutting board and pull out the worst of them. The remainder look clean enough and I put them along with the pepper in the skillet. They sizzle in the hot olive oil, the toast is toasting, I pour the eggs into the skillet and in a few moments I am eating lunch. I look at the food and think about my agitation but also about what has come together here and feel gratitude.

There’s a lot of dirt in the eggs. I crunch and grind my way along and have a hissy-fit. I am not a happy camper but decide, “eat it anyway.” Mutter, fume, expletive deleted. My anger is not really about the dirt in the eggs, but a reflection of everything that’s wrong in life, both micro and macro, the details of which are probably not unique. Ellen DeGeneres and her “… back to a place of inner peace…” routine floats through my mind and I laugh.

There’s Ronna at the yoga studio. She is drinking a rather tall coffee. We’ve been friends for about a year and a half and while we don’t spend that much time together, Ronna is a great friend. I’m talking great in the sense that she is a solid character, smart, honest, and a person I know I can count on. She’s of small build with a huge heart, has high energy and I told her once, “you project well,” and she looked at me and said, “I’m loud.”

Of the fifteen or so students showing up, this week I am the only guy. One of the women notices a tag sticking out from the back of Ronna’s top and tucks it in with a pat. We bustle around the cramped entry area, getting our shoes and socks off and into one of the little cubbyholes on the wall. We wander into the main room get our mats and get situated. I’m glad to be here. It turns out I’m smack dab in the middle of the room.

I’m new enough where at times I get lost, but this ok. Ronna demonstrates and describes the postures and breathing and keeps the sequence going. She has a great sense of humor and encourages us not to worry about how we look. This helps a lot. As we go along the postures become more difficult. We are groaning and grunting and sweating and shaking. The heat in my body goes up. The heat in the room goes up. There we are, each of us balancing on opposing hands and feet with our butts up in the air, with the other arms and legs stretched out straight, sort of, and Ronna says, “now gimme three push ups!” and laughs and guffaws circulate the room.

And we relax. Taking a break any time is encouraged, but then as a group we all just lay there on our mats. With eyes closed I might be the only person in the room, it is that calm. The ceiling fan is going, the soft oscillating whir becomes my world for a moment.

Class is open to people with all levels of experience. Around the room, some clearly know yoga. Ronna tells us even if we can’t do it or screw up, we’re still doing yoga. I watch her closely as she demonstrates. I always knew she did yoga, but to see her do it… no bone, just cartilage, maybe that’s her secret. Or maybe it’s that she has been doing this for twenty years. The flexibility and strength she has, I never would have guessed. It’s amazing. Ronna shares wisdom too, saying, “We spend so much of our lives in our minds and much of that has to do with the past or the future. We replay the same movie over and over. The body is in the present. Yoga is about getting into your body and listening to what it has to say.”

After class we mingle a bit and wish each other well. I feel wiped out, a little overwhelmed and totally alive in my body. It feels good.

Gordon Bunker