A clacking that I assumed was the sound of Chai’s hooves against the wooden floor joined the music as she walked around the room.
“Hello and good morning,” she said calmly. “My name is Chai, and I’ll be guiding you through your practice for the next hour. We’ll begin lying down, so please start to make yourself comfortable. Tuck your shoulder blades under your back and let your arms splay out with your palms up. Let your legs spread out to the corners of your mat, and let your ankles roll to whatever position feels natural. If lying with your legs straight out is uncomfortable, bend your knees and place the soles of your feet flat on the mat.”
There was a shuffling of bodies as everyone assumed the position that was most comfortable to them. I placed my legs straight out, allowing my ankles to roll outward and feeling a nice stretch through my body.
“Excellent,” Chai praised. “Close your eyes and turn your focus inward. Let go of anything happening outside of this space. Let go of any stress or anxiety you might be feeling. Bring your focus to the present moment. It’s normal for outside thoughts to pop up during your practice. Take a moment to acknowledge those thoughts, then send them away from you when you exhale. Just let them go.”
Chai guided the class through meditation and then stretching for several minutes, instructing us on breathing techniques, and stressed the idea of proper form over depth during poses.
“Now that we’re warmed up, we’ll move into our firstasana, or pose.” Chai moved so that she sat on her knees with her hooves pointed out behind her—and the class followed suit. I felt a slight stretch along the sides of my knees, but it wasn’t anything painful.
“Balasanais Sanskrit for child’s pose,” she continued once she had everyone’s attention. “We’ll be learning the Sanskrit names throughout our sessions. We’re going to take a deep breath in through our nose, then exhale while we lean forward. Stretching your arms outward, bring your palms to the mat, lengthening your spine.”
I watched Chai, studying each of her controlled movements as she performed the pose. She made it look so fluid,soeffortless. Meanwhile, I felt rigid and out of practice—but that’s what I was here for.
Inhaling deeply, I leaned forward as I exhaled, letting my wandering thoughts and negativity leave me with the pose.
While my head was down and I held the asana, Chai spoke again. “Listen to your body. Know that whatever you do is perfect. Don’t compare yourself or your body to anyone else. Do what’s right for your body and honor yourself with your yoga practice. Let’s move into our next asana.”
* * *
By the end of class,my mind was calm and at ease, and my body felt loose and relaxed. I was positive I’d be sore tomorrow, but it would be the good kind of sore that came along with moving your body.
We wiped down our mats and returned our equipment to the racks, the other students making conversation before filing out the door. I packed my things slowly, dragging it out until Chai and I were the only ones left in the studio.
“So what did you think?” she asked with a smile.
I took a deep breath. “You know, I really enjoyed it. It was nice to let go of my thoughts and focus on my body and my breathing. Some of the asanas were a little difficult, but I’m sure it’ll get easier as my flexibility improves.”
Her ears perked up. “I take it you’ll be at the next class?”
“Yeah,” I said with a nod, not needing time to think about it. “I will.”
She clasped her hands together and bounced from hoof to hoof. “I’m so glad! And it’ll absolutely get easier over time. We’re striving for progress, not perfection.”
Progress, not perfection.
That was another one for my mirror.
FOURTEEN
ALISTAIR
February
This too shall pass.
A loud crack echoed over the mountainside as the axe collided with the log, splintering it into pieces.
“Still got it,” I said with a smile.
After wiping the sweat from where it collected along my hairy brow, I tossed the pieces of firewood into the wheelbarrow. Even though it was a crisp forty-five degrees out, chopping wood still made me work up a sweat.
Yeah, I had a log splitter. But every once in a while, when I was feeling myself, I liked to play the role of lumberjack. And with Pam in my life, I was feeling myself a lot lately.
I chuckled under my breath, reminded of those books she read about the mountain men who had a breeding kink. While I didn’t live in Montana, and we were well past our baby-making prime, I wouldn’t mind practicing.
Pam and I were a little over a month into things, and I was really starting to feel the distance. Phone calls, text messages, video chats. I couldn’t get enough of her. Every day I came home to an empty, joyless house from a job I was feeling increasingly detached from.
