Going all Zen

by Bella Rum

My yoga instructor is a delightful, unflappable, and low-key woman. She creates the perfect balance in her class between striving to improve physical well-being and fostering that inner sense of well-being we all wish for.

Of course, my favorite part is always the meditation at the end of each practice. It takes me to a warm and fuzzy place. I wish I’d been exposed to this in my twenties. It still amazes me how something so simple can bring such calm.

As you might expect, my yoga instructor is a very fit woman. I first thought she was much younger than she is. I would guess that she’s actually in her mid fifties from things she has shared in class, but she looks fifteen years younger.

She can bend and arch and flex like Peter Pan, but if you saw her walking across a parking lot, you’d just think she was a lovely, fit woman. She does kind of remind me of Peter Pan but with girl stuff where it’s supposed to be.  I fully expect a rope to fall from the ceiling one day and her gentle demeanor to drop away as she grabs it and swings through the air shouting, “Down dog, you scallywags!”

When she arrived at class last Thursday, she was not her usual unflappable self. She said that she was about to enter a parking place when another person zipped in front of her and took the space. No big deal. She found another parking place, but just as she was pulling into that space, a car filled with teenage boys pulled through from the other side and took the parking place. Adding insult to injury, they got out of the car and laughed at her as they walked away.

Try going all Zen after that.

She managed.