Prescilla Patrick and My Aging Dilemma

I'm a widower of advanced age.

For most of four decades my wife was constantly on my mind and nearly always in my arms.

I think that if someone had asked her why we were such good friends, she might have responded: "He's my long-term-loosening-up project. He studies too much and generally tries too hard. I always like him. But I like him best when he's all loose and easy, and we're just havin' fun."

Small wonder she taught me yoga! Even smaller wonder she began our every day with at least a thirty minutes of stretches and yoga poses.

But PLEASE! Don't get me talking about my wife. Today I
wanna talk about yoga. Yoga's a demanding discipline. Flexibility,
strength, and balance are three of it's central goals. Of course,
nearly every physical activity is enhanced by development
of these three qualities.

Almost any serious athlete -- on any level of development -- knows the value of loosening up before engaging in sport. Of course KNOWING the value of something is no guarantee it will be PRACTICED. Enough to say: stretch or self-destruct!

Permit me two examples.

First: progressive tightening of the rear muscles of the upper-thigh almost always results in lower back injuries that ultimately end athletic participation. Left unstretched, the lower back muscles and the rear thigh muscles become progressively tighter over time and literally tear each other apart. Only concentrated stretching avoids such injuries and related physical difficulties.

Second, consider aging. Aging is at least partially a process by which progressively tightened, opposing muscle groups literally tear each other and related joints apart. In many ways, because we stretch too little, and work our bodies when they're tight, we grind our joints to pieces. Ever wonder why many elderly hobble around as they do?

But don't get me talking about yoga. Take a course in yoga. You will discover that nothing need be said about yoga. Its virtually silent practice accomplishes all.

I want to talk about the value of good teachers -- of good teaching.

Specifically, I wanna talk about Priscilla Patrick. I wake up with Priscilla every weekday morning at 6:00. Yes! It's still dark outside.

UNfortunately she is NOT in my arms. Priscilla's a gorgeous woman. Today, in passing, she mentioned her four grand-babies. Made me wonder: Was this woman married at twelve? But never mind. . . .

Priscilla Patrick's yoga classes originate somewhere in North Carolina and are carried on one of our local PBS channels. She's a remarkable teacher. She's patient and quiet-spoken, strong, balanced, and flexible -- a perfect example of what yoga accomplishes for body and mind. She directs and demonstrates each pose, meanwhile reassuring and affirming her students:

Yes: anatomical variations do justify adjustments of a pose.
Yes: patient practice over time
will produce growth and mastery.
Yes: work hard and you will improve.

There's something impossible to describe about truly good teachers -- whatever their special skills, they all share something special that summons students. Understand this fact: Every day I consider quitting yoga. Yet, I consistently wake up to meet Priscilla every morning without an alarm clock. You might say: "Wait a minute, Bob. You've practiced yoga almost every day for more than half your life. Why might you think you would or could just up and quit now?"

Perhaps my answer is buried right there in the question. Even while I realize how good yoga is for me physically and mentally, I'm often resistant. I'm often tired of yoga. Yoga's hard work. It's a difficult task-master.

I'm old and lazy enough to resent the hold upon me of even my very best habits. I struggle to continue reading and studying, for instance. Some days I can hardly force myself to work out -- another sensible life-long habit. I also struggle with my long-standing habit of long walks. These are wonderful habits. Yet some days, until I get started, I absolutely hate these regimens.

Let Ol' Man River just keep rollin' along. For god's sake, let me stop! Am I the only old codger who feels this way at least part of the time? I hope not!

It's just that part of the time my penchant for self-discipline irks me. Part of the time I long for freedom. Part of the time I want to give up! Could be it has to do with prolonged grieving. Maybe not.

But what I sense about the major issues I confront at this time of my life is that the pros and cons appear to fall evenly. Should I do this or that? I find myself constantly on the razor's edge. In order to make a decision, I need at least one more reason -- one more yes or no -- on one side of an issue. Otherwise I can't decide.

Sometimes I'm beset by uncertainties. At such times, I often refuse to decide. I think I know myself well enough to know that at such times I want and need a teacher.

The remarkable thing about my five weekly lessons with Priscilla Patrick is that, at a time when I am growing older, when I might rightly expect my body to be dwindling away -- at this time of aging, I nevertheless find myself growing stronger and more flexible. Plus I can actually SEE in the mirror that I'm stronger and more healthy physically than I was four or five years ago in the midst of my wife's illness.

You might think that positive evidence would be reason enough for me to continue practicing yoga. But it's not. The trouble is that yoga's such hard work. It demands such total commitment and concentration. I say again: yoga is a difficult task-master. It doesn't give a damn if you're aging and exhausted. It could care less if you feel like quitting. Nor will it tolerate sloppy performance. It must be done right, or not at all.

Still, I often wonder if it's worth all the effort it demands. Why can't I just quit, perhaps whither away with a series of good books in my hands? I'm sorely tempted.

Then here comes this exemplary yoga teacher. Priscilla Patrick meets me every weekday morning. She works with me a scant twenty minutes or so. Then I somehow feel compelled to work through my own series of poses. What's that the British say: In for a penny, in for a pound.

But it's this marvelous teacher, Priscilla Patrick, who gets me started every morning. She challenges me. She drags me out of bed and says to me:

Come-on Bob.
One more day.
Maybe tomorrow you can quit.
But today: Let's yoga.
And so I do.

You gotta love a teacher who can do that to ya!