Ode to the Burpee

People carry themselves into a hot and sweaty yoga class for a variety of different reasons.

Mostly those reasons tend toward asana--the physical poses themselves.

Maybe sometimes it's pranayama--forcing oneself to breathe, and stick with the breath when they want to hold it in--a metaphor for dealing with life's "tough stuff" off the mat.

There are six other really legit reasons to start a yoga practice, to walk into a studio, to unroll your mat and be present.

Four months ago, a teacher and friend I came to know through yoga opened up a studio literally a song and a half's car ride away from my house.

And here I found my mat again...reunited with my breath...reignited my fire and strength. 

And here, my teacher and friend introduced me to the yoga burpee. 

Burpee: noun. popular form of torture in boot camp style fitness classes across the globe. generally involves quick movements, elevated heart rate, and testing of stamina.

In other words, it kicks your ass.

Put a burpee in a yoga class, and you think, "Yeah, pretty sure Patanjali didn't intend for that to be a part of any branch of yoga." 

Oh but yes...it is.

When I request it in the class I regularly attend, or I hear her announce at the beginning we are going to do them, I get really excited--like, big-grin-can't-be-wiped-off-my-face I am so excited. 

I look around the room and the reactions of other students are more...smoosh-face-crinkle-nose-audible-moan-of-terror. 

But here's what a burpee does for me--for all of us. First, it's fun. It's like flying on a trapeze: jump back, rise up, jump forward, leap, repeat. You feel light. I feel free.

Second, it's a total in-the-moment thing. There is no room for your chitta, your shit, your bad day, or guilt, or stress. It's you and the next jump, the next breath.

Which brings me to three: you absolutely have to breathe. You inhale through power and exhale through release and you find the rhythm and move. 

And that's number four: movement. Moving is fun. Jumping and leaping are things we haven't done since we were five. You release expectation and you move. And when there is no expectation, you find yourself in a moment of pure joy. You smile. There is absolutely nothing serious about yoga...and good grief there is zero seriousness in a yoga burpee. 

Finally, at the end of a yoga burpee, you pause. Your breath is moving rapidly, but it's fire. And your heart feels like it's going to pound right out of your chest.

"Feel that?" my teacher friend says. "Feel that pounding? That's your reminder you're alive." 

Eight limbs of yoga or not, I come to my mat to feel alive. 

Toddlers & Teens

I am fortunate enough (although in the eyes of many, perhaps unfortunate) to be with children all day long.

I leave teenagers at the end of the day to go home to toddlers.

Two extremes, neither of which a parent will tell you is a "golden age."

I beg to differ.*

For every eye roll and heavy sigh and groan I may get from a thirteen year old, I can go home to Will singing, "You are the BEST mommy in the world!"

Even when I feel like I'm not.

For every arched back crying tantrum I get from Reid during a diaper change, I can walk into my classroom and hear, "Thanks for the help Mrs. K." (Because oh yes, teenagers can be polite. I promise you.)

For every time I bang my head against a wall at wrong verb conjugations and sentence order that makes no sense in any language including "Jibberish," I can go home and babble in Jibberish with Reid and sing songs about the moon with Will and feel my heart tell my head it's okay.

For every Will meltdown, complete with harsh words spoken by a little mind who is repeating and not understanding--meltdowns that test my patience, strength, and heart--I can look at the faces in the seats in my room and know that he'll probably turn out alright.

For every face in those seats that I know has seen pain unlike anything I will see in my lifetime, I can go home and squeeze those little ones and tell them how much they are loved.

And always will be.

Teaching--like parenting--is a job that can swell your heart so big you feel it will burst in one breath and then pull on the strings that hold it together in the next.

There is always a yin to the yang.

Choosing these roles in my life--best decisions I've ever made.

Sometimes when you're in a good place, you just want to share.

*at least today...I haven't been home yet to pick up Reid only to have him scream when I put him down, nor have I been witness to any Will meltdowns, and in my classroom today things went okay. So...there's that.