Out of pure love with a sense of adventure I went with Sarah once. It was fucking torture and, advocate that I am, I let it be known laying on the floor screaming in agony.
Sarah giggles which gets April Moore laughing and pretty soon the class is disrupted and I swear I'll never do yoga again!
But there's a "Live Strong" program for cancer survivors and, out of pure love, with a new sense of adventure, Sarah talks me into joining.
So I watch myself being tortured in a chair with soothing words flowing from the epitome of health backed by Native American music emulating from somewhere.
Facing the wall of mirrors it's impossible to not look at ourselves though the instructor calmly tells us to close our eyes.
I'd fall out of the chair if I close my eyes so I look at everyone else who's eyes are shut.
On either side of me are six other survivors, who are all old.
The looks on each face clearly indicate they're also being tortured, grimacing while clutching for dear life with knuckles long turned white.
"Live Strong!" our leader yells encouragingly.
"Live sore," someone mutters and I giggle, meaning I can't lift my right arm while wrapping my left leg around my head, so I stop participating.
"Inhale," the lovely voice invites, "while placing your kneecaps against your earlobes."
I stare in the mirror to watch the survivors actually try!
None come close, of course, which makes me giggle again.
Thank God I got high before coming!
Again concentrating on the mirror I see myself as I am, not as I imagine me with complete disregard for reality, but the thin on top, long grey hair, white bearded, skinny, old man with a stomach that strangely tilts to the right.
I sigh, attempt to rejoin the torture but quickly stop wishing I'd brought a gummy.
Mercifully, yoga ends and we're shepherded to a classroom.
The survivors use this time to check each other out and I can see in their eyes they're also wondering why everyone else in the class is old except them.
"Is this the onset of dementia," I wonder?
"What does everyone do to relieve tension?" we're asked to share.
"I meditate."
"I play classical music."
Everyone looks at me.
"I smoke a lot of weed," I giggle.
"Did you bring any?" four of the six survivors ask.
The epitome of health again unleashes her calming voice to sprinkle meditative words nudging us towards inner peace.
I wonder what Sarah's doing?
I notice everyone's eyes are closed and it's quiet.
Somehow I missed the instructions that we're meditating now.
I want beer for lunch but it's a non drinking day and my arms will probably be too sore to raise a glass anyway.
We're dismissed and encouraged to use the gym before the next class but everyone laughs.
In the parking lot, I'm first in my car and use the opportunity to watch the survivors walking out, slowly shuffling feet towards the lives we fight to hold on to.
The skies are the deepest of blues and a faded white moon hangs on for dear life too!
I take encouragement in this and head home for a quiet lunch with my wife, extremely grateful for the the sense of adventure and pure love awaiting me.
