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Old Poser

My young self could do backbends, and yes, walkovers, splits, could comfortably sit in lotus position (without knowing what it was), and as a party piece, could walk across the room on my knees whilst in said lotus position (I’m talking very young here….!!).

Yeah, no, can’t do any of that now.

I’ve been practising yoga formally, on and off, for about thirty years. I always thought that the more I practiced the more flexible I’d become, which is true up to a point. The problem is, I wasn’t taking the ageing process into account.  I’m in my seventies now and have found that, with the best will in the world, my knees just won’t accommodate lotus anymore. Oh yes, I can get into half lotus, but the other half eludes me.  My back won’t bend like it used to. I can just about do bow pose, but its not pretty (I might be kidding myself here, tbh I haven’t tried it lately!) .

Of course, the other thing about ageing is that you are supposed to get wiser.

Wisdom is another thing that eludes me. But what I have learnt through my practice, and now accept, is that its ok not to be as bendy as the next person, or even be as bendy as I used to be.

Keeping practicing does not necessarily make me super flexible, strong, and balanced, but it does (and this is a very big does) keep me more flexible, strong and balanced than I would be if I didn’t practice.  Worrying about that elusive posture won’t make me achieve it, but working towards the best posture this old body can achieve is in itself the reward. Each time I forward bend and find I can still easily place my palms on the floor I am reminded of how many people of my age who aren’t able to do that, and I feel like a ten year old again when I do manage to get up into headstand.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that yoga has given me a positive frame of mind, making me proud of what I can achieve, instead of worrying about what I can’t, or regretting how I’ve changed.  It is a life lesson I can carry through all aspects of my life too.

I see all those Instagram pictures of flexible folk in incredible poses, arm balances, legs above their heads, and all the rest, and I admire them, I really do, but I’m happy to leave that practice to them, and just be grateful that yoga improves my health and wellbeing in ways I could never have imagined when I was nine years old and walking on my knees in lotus.

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On Writing Long Lines

As you may know, I’m currently getting to grips with a Masters in Creative Writing with the Open University.  As an exercise we were asked to look at lines in poetry and experiment with using different lengths.  This is the lyric essay that I wrote as a result:

On Writing Long Lines

Well, I’ve never written a line this long

before, I’ve always gone the short route, yes

shorter even than this which seems to me to be

rather overlong, rather, you know, unnecessarily

wordy. It’s true, I’m not saying much, not capturing

your interest. See, I’m not fluent in this kind of thing, not

experienced in these long poetic pieces that successfully play

with language. Those lines that are musical, that live on in the ear

like a snapshot of a really good memory from years ago when you went

to the beach and laid prostrate for eight hours reading your favourite novel

of all time. Or that time when you danced until three under a full tropical moon

and, after the hangover wore off, you hummed the tunes for days on end never wanting

to lose that feeling of abandonment. But as you know, we all have to knuckle down and when

we’re asked to write in different lines, being creatures that need approval, we do as we are

told, even though its alien, it makes us feel weird inside, it makes our voices shake

and tremble towards the end as our breaths run out and our brains just can’t

take anymore. And so I’ve done it. I’ve written lines that maybe are not

poetry. Maybe they are. Who is to say?  All I know is that in future

I’ll stick to my own little way and I’ll speak loud and clear

and in tiny lines of just three feet, no more than that,

and I doubt I’ll ever pen a poem using long lines

such as these, ever, no never, again.