Balance

I have finally resigned myself to the fact that I am not a yogi. For years I resolved to go to yoga class regularly, believing it would help me find inner peace, disclover zen, replace cookies. But recently, I realized that trying to get to yoga class was stressing me out more than the classes were relaxing me. I wasn't willing to replace my regular daily workout with yoga, quite certain that no matter how many asanas we got through, an hour of yoga just was not the equivalent of an hour on the StairMaster. So going to yoga meant a second trip to the gym for the day. Even in my 3L year of law school, when I considered going to class more or less optional, that second trip to the gym seemed a bit much. I could always find some other way to spend that time.

Adding to my lackluster motivation to get to yoga class was the fact that while there, any of the moves that required me to pick one foot off the floor was an immediate source of anxiety. Try as I might to focus and balance, I would inevitably begin to sway and, so as not to topple into the classmates beside me, end up hopping from one foot to another while watching with envy as all those around me stood tall and still. Such episodes, I found, were not stress-relieving, but stress-inducing. And while the classes did not consist solely of such moves, there were enough of them for the classes to net me no more relaxed nor more stressed than before the classes had begun. Thus, I decided, my time could be more well spent in pursuit of other interests.

While I have given up my yoga dream, I am plagued with a lingering concern. Balance, it seems, is a skill as valuable outside of yoga class as it is in it. And yet, outside of class I find myself nearly as flailing as in it. Between work and family, boyfriend and girl friends, there just never seems to be enough time in the day to do everything I need / want to do. I sway from one extreme to another - working 85 hours a week and not talking to anyone but those with whom I am forced to interact - to vacationing, trying to restore all my friendships, show my boyfriend I love him and in general remind people that I am alive. All in all, I find this routine rather exhausting.

And generally, I feel pretty justified in feeling this way. After all, I work hard - in the greatest city in the world - where people work harder than anywhere else (at least in America - those Indians and Chinese - well who can compete with them?). Yet sometimes I find myself rather doubtful. My life right now is admittedly much less complicated than the life of the average working wife and mother - a status more and more of my friends are beginning to assume. Kids add a whole other dimension to the scenario and make me wonder and worry, How ever will I do it?

So maybe I gave up on yoga too quickly. Maybe with a little perserverance, I could learn to stand on one leg without flailing. Maybe I will give it another try. After all, compared to having kids, getting to yoga class seems like a breeze.