Welcome to one of my favorite yoga books of all time: “Poser: My Life in Twenty-three Yoga Poses,” by Claire Dederer. In this refreshing and witty book, Claire presents her own very human journey into the world of yoga, complete with skepticism and resistance. And yet she also paints the picture of an unfolding, an understanding, a deepening of the benefits of yoga that crop up throughout her life, often unexpectedly. It’s a great book for anyone wanting a smart, funny and honest look at how yoga–physically and philisophically–can help us in the real world.
On a more personal note, the book resonates with me so much because it speaks directly to dilemmas I was caught in as a new mother in Seattle (her hometown), often times without much noticing. New mommy-hood was, for me, the experience of juggling several very heavy objects. Actually, that sounds easier; one just strengthens over time to manage the predictable balls–it’s been more like juggling cumbersome objects that ceaselessly morph in weight and shape as time goes on…
A few of these objects:
– wanting the best for my child, and trying to get in touch with my own sense of what that “best” is,
– trying to work on the above project with someone else, i.e., the baby’s father,
– adoring this little being so much I can barely contain it, even though I’d rolled my eyes at this kind of thing before becoming a parent,
– being frustrated as hell with this same little being at times,
– trying out different arrangements of how to fit my career in there–full time, part time, evenings, weekends, strange combinations of the above…
– often feeling exhausted and sleep-deprived to the core,
– trying to find time for things resembling my marriage before (sleeping in? dinners out? time for sex?! ha!) and for things resembling me before…
– being both a part of and held hostage by the often holier-than-thou dictates of Good Parenthood in a liberal bubble, and…you get the point…
A clip from my journal may give a tiny snapshot. On this day I’d tried out Storytime at my local library:
The librarian announces that we are going to start by singing a song, and launches into “The More We Get Together.” The parents all around me join right in, cheerful as they and rock back and forth, some downright gleeful, belting it out. I’ve never heard this song before in my life. Where have I been, under some rock somewhere, keeping my beloved child out of the world where children dance and sing and learn? I tell myself that’s ridiculous–I know “The Wheels on the Bus” just fine. Then I notice some of the parents adding in sign language as they sing.
Oh for Christ’s sake.
I have all the sign language videos that any liberal mother knows will help their children develop, but my knowledge plateaus around single gestures: juice, sun, boots. I thought I was ahead of the curve, but any attempts to link words into sentences–much less in song–produces a sporadic and embarrassing fumble of hands. I remember the words of a colleague in the therapy world: “comparisons are just a booby trap,” and I feel some vague yogic knowledge that we are all on our own paths–there is no one way, and no right way. Judgement of others, or myself, is rigid, non-compassionate, even violent. But this knowledge floats around in my head, and even as I pause in invitation for it to trickle down into the rest of me, no such percolation occurs. My heart has been practicing fear and dread for much longer than lightness and compassion.
I’m “behind” in motherhood and my boy will surely suffer. I’m a compassionate yogi and have faith. I find myself at various points between these two ideas on any given day. And I know for sure this will be an ongoing struggle as parenthood continues…
The good news–for both me and Claire Dederer and countless others–is that in many ways yoga helps me wade through these scary waters with a little more openness and softness. The physical practice is empowering and calming, and the philosophy encourages me to see every messy struggle as an opportunity to apply ideas like flexibility, compassion and honoring reality. So yes, sometimes I’m (obviously!) still snarky and judgmental and competitive and downright pissy, but yoga continues to help me see things from a higher vantage point, which allows me to feel less attached to each struggle and to have faith in a bigger picture…