extract from assignment

Learning to Breathe

Are you ok?

Yes. No. I’m fine. It’s just tough in this position.

Well, remember to breathe ok. And don’t push yourself.

I stretch out, feel the strain on the backs of my knees. My face red and the blood thumping. I’ve forgotten to breathe.

Inhale.

Eyes on the mat, my hands splayed before me. Chipped nail varnish. Trace the folds of my knuckles, the lines of my life. But those are on your palm. Was it written there? What is written there?

And breathe out. Now bring the right leg forward and stretch your neck to the sky.

My legs feel stuck but I drag one forward in a daring move, ungraceful. My neck is taught as I tilt it back, but the stretch is in my fingers, grappling with the floor. I glance at Chellsy, who seems to fit perfectly into the instructor's mold, a smooth curve running the contours of her back. I glance further round the room, my eyes stretching beyond their periphery. Everyone looks perfect.

Neck to the sky.

I jerk back into position. It´s agony now, the V-spread of my hand about to implode outwards. A lyric lingers. Se mi rilasso, collasso. Reflective pronouns.

Breathe in. Bring your arms to your knee and open your chest wide to the side.

Easier now, I feel the balance and take a few more breaths than necessary. My head is hot, a teardrop of sweat trickles down my brow.

Have you done yoga before? She had asked.

Once, I had said.

Exhala profunda. Now work your way back through the movements to standing.

I glide awkwardly through each position, racing back to the start when I was upright; where I was sure of my balance. But I arrive and it’s not as it seems, not as I had hoped. The arms above my head begin to buckle and white spots flash in my eyes, sending everyone sideways. The sweat is now a steady stream.

Stop. Blink. Breathe.

Do the same movements again, this time with your left leg forward.

I swoop my arms in an arc and the room balloons in my vision. I close my eyes and push into downward facing dog. But I stay there, obedient to my body. It calls to me, to stand up and run away. I feel my hands clammy beneath me, my arms shaking, trying to support me. I will not give up. I will push through this, push my leg forward and push my chest open and feel the air rush slowly into my lungs. I can do anything I put my mind to.

Inhala profu –

But then my knees give way and my head spins out of control. I fall to the floor and lie in a kneeling ball, my heart galloping ahead of me. I grab hold of my feet and breathe hard into the mat. Fue pánico, puro pánico. The sweat mixes with tears and I don’t know what is happening.

¿Estás bien?

I wipe away my woe and look up with a meek smile.

Yes, sorry. I´ve, - em -, I´ve had a cold recently and I think this is maybe working the last of it through me.

I move my hands to let my body speak. I can feel my mouth asking to be excused, but she encourages me back into a kneeling ball.

Let your body relax and don´t push it. Continue when you´re ready. Just breathe.

That´s what it´s all about really. Learning to breathe. In...and out. In....and out. Inhaling Qs and exhaling Rs. I sink into the floor, my eyes closed to the world. Q. R. Q. R. What must they be thinking of me? What must Chellsy be thinking? I can explain to her, she´ll understand. It wasn´t like this the first time, Chels, I was good then. I even did a shoulder stand! This is just a glitch. A blip. I haven´t been feeling well, you see.

My mind races, fractured. The low rumble of thoughts as they approach the forefront of my mind. The grammar of memory. Epanaleptic excuses. But some of them are negative. Some of them I don´t want. Not active, but passive. Judgment will be passed on me, on my failings, on my inability to articulate my body. The impediment of my orthoepy. But the fault wasn´t mine. It lay with someone else, with someplace else. It could be worse though. You, they may not have seen.

Now we´ll do some floor poses. Let´s start with the Butterfly Asana. In a seated position, hold the soles or toes of your feet and push...

And so I am not there, invisible as they continue. Forgotten rubble on the floor, the remains of yesterday. But if they notice you, they would clear you away. Nobody likes a visual reminder. But isn´t that what we do? Create monuments, install museums, plant poppies. To download our memories into reality, to Kindle them.

So I here I lie, the tomb to the fallen yogini.

And yet, I live.