Be Steadfast: Angry New Yorkers in Tree Pose

No matter where we live, whether we are single or married, have kids or not, great jobs or hated ones, we all need an outlet for stress.  It is imperative, since studies show upwards of 90% of disease is directly linked to stress. Maybe it is running, sports, or great hobby that gives you a release.  Whatever it is for you, you can use the positive energy it brings to make you live better and be better. Mine is my yoga practice.

We all have those days when everything seems to go wrong, our usual ability to deal with adversity is absent, our sweet self is replaced by a crazy monster and feel like we’re bubbling with anxiety.  Some people may want a drink at the end of a day like that.  I want yoga.

Today was one of those days. A long New York Winter has transitioned into incessant rain: the windy, cold, miserable rain that renders an umbrella useless and pummels all in its path. Since we all are walking/training/busing it everywhere, there is no escape from a bad weather day.  To boot, we are surrounded by 7 million other cranky New Yorkers that desperately need a sunny vacation and a pina colata.

After I woke up late and rushed to get ready, I ran in the rain to the bus, desperately dug around in my black hole of a purse to discover my metro card expired today, and had to rely on a sweet little old lady who sympathized with me to change my two wet singles for quarters. The bus driver (one of the vacation deserving 7 mill, was certainly not taking any pity on me.) I arrived soaked and very late to work. It was an out-of-body experience and I thought “how in the world do we cope around here with days like these”? As I turned onto 1^st Avenue, I saw a little girl on the street screaming, stomping her feet, and pulling her hair out.  I thought to myself “I know exactly how you feel.” For adults who can’t have an outward tantrum, we have to find a way to woman-up and take control.  A healthy, positive outlet for stress and negative energy is key.

After work, there was an invisible force pulling me to class, telling me it would help. I knew an hour and a half of challenge and concentration would put me right again. In keeping with my day thus far, my class was at the Midtown studio, which is the most difficult to get to. After a cross town commute I was left 4 blocks away to claw my way through the Times Square tourists with several bags and my yoga mat strapped to my back. The studio is oddly juxtaposed with Midtown Manhattan, 4 floors up in building with a gritty storefront studded in neon lights, beside rowdy bars, less than sanitary looking delis, and an adult entertainment shop.  While the traffic and noise swirl around beneath, 50 focused, profusely sweating yogis try to meditate while contorting their bodies into poses. It seems fitting for NYC, there is always something above, next to, or behind you, a collage of culture and contradicting ideologies trying to coexist.  It’s just as funny that my most peaceful place in the city is perched in the middle of the most chaotic neighborhood. If I can find peace here, you can find it where you live too!

Those who are close to me are constantly perplexed by why, as over-programmed as my life is, I still make a regular yoga practice a priority.  When I have no spare time, I would rather give up most other things I would do for fun or relaxation to go sweat my booty off and struggle through a 90 minute class. Yes, I realize this makes me a bit of a freak. I give up other things to practice, make myself late to “fit it in” a class where it doesn’t fit, and the time commitment of practicing makes it certain that I don’t have much down time.

The truth is, Yoga is my serenity.  It is my battery recharge after a bad day. It is a natural high, and a stress reliever. It takes away aches and pains and makes my entire body function better. It gives me the tools to control my mind when the circumstances around me challenge me to break. It is my calm, rational friend that pushes me hard, but gives back more than it takes. She always delivers.  Even when the class is rough, it is usually a reminder that I haven’t been taking good enough care of my body.  Yoga always knows.  If I drink more than a little bit of alcohol, don’t sleep or drink enough water, overload on coffee, yoga knows. And with tough love she reminds me to make better choices.  Be better tomorrow, and you will feel better. Every day whether, good or bad, yoga gives me the tools I need to be a happier, healthier person, it brings perspective to my irrational thoughts or worries, and keeps my body healthy and strong. She is my port in a storm.

On the outside, hot Yoga might not seem like an appealing activity, but it is just like a New Yorker: dynamic, accepting, friendly and fun with an intimidating exterior and a big heart. You just have to get to know her.