Stretched

I've decided to take up yoga.
Anyone who knows me knows I hate most kinds of physical exercise, but yoga seemed like something that fit with my desire to be lithe and limber while listening to soothing music and not breaking a sweat.
So I searched YouTube for "yoga for beginners", picked a video at random, and tried to follow the directions of the teeny bopper in tights who was effortlessly bending herself into geometric shapes.  My body refused.  So I got into Grab the Remote Pose and changed my search to "yoga for inflexible people who are trying it for the very first time".
And that's how I found Jen and her "Safe Stretches for Beginners" video.  Jen moved slowly.  And was completely non-judgemental.  She demonstrated each pose and then explained how to supplement with pillows, rolled up hand towels, and modified movements for those of us who are just starting out and have "tight" shoulders, hips, hamstrings....well, pretty much everything (except for things that are actually supposed to be tight - like the skin around my eyes).
Even with such a gentle instructor, the stretches felt awkward at first.  For a moment I thought, "Ow!  This hurts!"  And I wanted to stop immediately.  Holding the pose for a few seconds felt like enough and it was uncomfortable and I just wanted to pop back into my familiar bad posture.  But Jen said, "Just stay there.  And take deep breaths." And she stayed in her pose for twice as long as I thought was necessary.
And as I stayed there with her and took deep breaths, I realized something.
It didn't actually hurt.
Oh, I felt it for sure.  But it was really just...different.  Not painful. Just new.
And then she said, "As you breathe, you will soften into the stretch instead of resisting it.  And pretty soon you will be surprised at the improvement in your flexibility and range of motion."
And as I lay there with my cheek pressed into the carpet and my arm bent further back than I ever thought it could go, I knew she was so right.
Because, lately, life has put me in some positions that have stretched me in new ways.
My children's bedrooms no longer have dirty clothes on the floor and posters on the wall.  The furniture looks lonely and the rooms feel different.
And my husband, who has been home with me in the evenings for the past two years, is involved with coaching. My single dinner plate looks lonely and the table feels different.
Celebrations are changing, and the holidays feel different.
And at first, I want to say, "Stop!  This hurts and I don't like it.  Put it all back the old familiar way."
But I stay here, in the new position, and I breathe.
And it doesn't hurt.  Not really.  It feels weird, awkward, unfamiliar, new.
But I stay.
And I breathe.
And I stop resisting.
And eventually, the new feels more comfortable.
I sit in my favorite chair and read an entire book in one evening without any guilt.
I accept an invitation to a friend's "cookie party" without having to check my kids' activity schedules.
I laugh at emails and texts from my husband throughout the day and I smile in the dark as he climbs into bed late beside me, regaling me with what happened at the game.
I think about joining the community choir.
I am surprised at my new flexibility and range of motion.
Jen says other stuff too.  When she is relaxing into her stretches she says things like "..a nice stretch" and "..that feels really great."  I am starting to know what she means.
You know, many years ago, when I was doing Pilates (yoga's angry cousin) my kids sat on the couch and howled with laughter at my attempts at The Seal.
But now the living room is blessedly silent.
I breathe, and soften into it.