D’var Yoga
After My Big Fat Hasidic Twin Bar Mitzvah, and standing on my feet for four days, my left hip was giving me grief. I visited a local physical therapist as I decided that stretching and exercise should be my first line of repair and I needed a second opinion (I, being my first humble opinion). The PT offered to dry needle my hip for $250 (Hey, where’s the colleague discount??). A set of Yoga classes was $30 for an unlimited first month. I decided to opt for the Yoga classes. Dry needling would have to wait.
Now I realize I should be exercising more regularly but like most people I have a plethora of excuses. I’m not new to yoga and though I think I should be able to do handstands and backbends, my days of competitive gymnastics are long gone; and so I find myself in a class with a bunch of in-shape, well-manicured ladies with the latest of swirly-pants-yoga apparel feeling a bit over-dressed and under stretched. As I was wondering if I was going to be able to hold each pose any longer before my legs split apart or my hip popped out of place, I thought, “Ilana, just make it to the Shavasana.”
Shavasana is by far my favorite part of the yoga class. It’s basically the reason I go to yoga. It’s where you lie on the floor at the end of the class and though you’re supposed to get “in tune with your practice,” most people just fall asleep until someone snores or coughs loud enough to wake them out of their well-deserved nap.
So there I am looking, waiting and pleading for Shavasana and it comes.
And then it goes.
What? A 2-minute Shavasana? What the heck? I think not! Something must be wrong. Did I sign up for the wrong class? I didn’t even get to drift off.
So back I go the next day, to try out a different class, the basic class, because surely something must have gone wrong. For sure, this class will have a good long Shavasana. This teacher gives us her d’var yoga, in the beginning, talking to us about her word of the day, which in this case is “truth.” She confesses to drinking red wine. I didn’t even know that was worthy of a confession. But her voice is soothing, and I’m already feeling much better from her words of wisdom. She then leads us so carefully through our stretches and positions. Now I know I’m in the right class as most people in this class don’t move so well and I’m not the only one feeling like some part of my body was not designed properly. I make it pretty smoothly to the end of the class and yes, the Shavasana is a good 7 minutes and yes, I get a great schnooze.
A few days later I go back to the yoga studio and, this time, I sign up for the “restorative” class. This is like Yoga for the immobile. It’s basically an expensive rest, but we all feel like we're working. This class is full of people who hardly move at all, and the entire class is like one long Shavasana. It’s during this restorative class (with my head cradled in a blanket and my back supported by pillows) when I have a revelation.
Shavasana is the Shabbos of yoga! I nearly pop out of my swaddle with excitement.
My husband doesn’t think there’s any mistake that the end of the yoga workout is called Shavasana, and he thinks it was originally probably called SHABBOSana. I mean everything eventually leads back to Shabbos, right? And, Shabbos ultimately leads to our getting closer to G-d. So essentially, the way I see it, Shavasana has one very high purpose.
And you thought it was just a nap!
By the way, my hip is feeling much better.
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