After being newly inspired by a couple of dear friends who are also regular yoga practitioners, and after waking up a few weeks ago with neck pain that didn’t go away as easily as my neck pains typically do, I decided it might be time to get back into yoga. (Side note—my neck pain eventually went away after a week (thankfully), and I’ve since seen a magnificent chiropractor who adjusted my neck and back, so I’m feeling pretty great again.)

I’ve practiced yoga at various times throughout my life. In Florida, I practiced Bikram’s yoga quite a bit. I’ve taken classes in most of the cities I’ve lived in, but typically the class ends and then I move on. I don’t practice in my own space at home. Without the guidance of a teacher, I am unsure of my form, so I’ve always assumed I need to be taking classes to ensure correct form. This keeps me in beginner yoga all time. Six weeks of classes. I stop. A year later, I decide to start again and so I start in beginner classes. Over and over, this has been my practice.

I’m hoping this newest effort will be different. I have a little financial flexibility for the classes; the classes are affordable; the studio is walking distance from my home. I went to my first session—yoga for very beginners—on Monday. It was terrific. The right mix of ease and difficulty. It was clear others in the space were regular practitioners, but I was happy to hold my own in most of the poses, especially since it’s been so long since I’ve tried. After I finished and went home, I wondered if it was too easy. There was another class on Thursday that was simply Beginners Yoga. I decided to try that too. I’m hoping to take two classes a week and thought these two may be a good combo.

Well. This session was a bit different. It’s taught by a newer instructor who is from India and teaches in the Indian tradition and this means something new to me now. Last year, when a friend was recommending a masseuse to me, she cautioned that the masseuse was a bit “woo woo, new agey.” I told my friend, “I am all about the woo woo.” (And she was right! I was with the masseuse for 90 minutes and there was speaking in tongues, energy work, crystal work…it was magnificent.) Woo woo has become a word my friend Holly and I use with each other…shorthand for acknowledging the ways in which some are or are not interested in New Agey things we find interesting (example: “That’s probably a little too woo woo for him.”) When I think about my mom, she was totally into woo woo. Though yoga has become utterly mainstream, at one time it was considered more woo woo. The yoga class I attended on Monday was a bit woo woo—the kind of yoga class you expect as a beginner…focused on form, but gentle, modifications offered for poses, cool hipster-teacher wearing her gorgeous mala beads. The class on Thursday was not woo woo. Not in any way.

First, I was the only attendee (!). I walked in five minutes early and greeted the woman, who is friendly and direct. After I put my mat down, she said, “Why don’t we start. No one typically comes to this 5:30 class so you can have five extra minutes.” Great! I was a bit concerned that I may be more of a beginner than she typically works with, but the class was described as for beginners. And I pride myself on trying to embrace new physical challenges, even if I may not perfect it—like, I may not be able to fold over and touch the ground without bending my knees, but I will try! And if I need to keep my knees locked, then I will get as close to the ground as I can! I am a good sport in that way, and I know change begins with putting in the effort. Well, I can safely say I pushed myself more in this hour—to points of total discomfort—than I have in any other yoga classes. Like, I did poses that I didn’t think I could do, and I probably couldn’t actually do considering how uncomfortable they were to hold. When I mentioned once that my foot was cramping, she said “Any pain you feel, you stretch through it.” I’m pretty sure other teachers I’ve had would have suggested going to child’s pose. But no, I kept stretching and stretching (and stretching) beyond my comfort zone.

At one point, we did the Dhanurasana. I was facing the mirror and when I saw my face (it was supposed to be relaxed), my eyes were cranked open so wide from my effort, that once I released the pose, I rested on the floor, laughing and laughing. I looked ridiculous. The teacher laughed a bit, too, and said most beginners have a hard time keeping their face relaxed in that pose.

One of the last poses we tried was the Salamba Sarvangasana. When she demonstrated the pose, I thought, yeah. This isn’t going to happen. Eventually she had me use the wall as a support for my legs, and to bring one leg up at a time. Eventually she had me use her as a support and I was able to bring both legs up, but not without her help. However, I could feel where the support was supposed to be within my hands and arms, and that helped. It made the position feel not quite so impossible.

This teacher absolutely handed me my ass in this class. No woo woo here. After we finished, I asked if she offered private classes. (What better way to improve than by working with someone who will kick your ass?) I learned she and her family had just moved to Vermont from India only two months ago, after her brother-in-law bought a motel in the area! As soon as she arrived, she went to the yoga studio to offer her knowledge and they hired her. She teaches every morning and it turns out she has some regulars. I was glad to hear it. I thought when no one showed for the 5:30 class, and since she was such a challenging teacher, that maybe her style wasn’t resonating in Vermont, but that is not the case. I asked her if she liked our town and she hesitated. She said in India she had a housemaid and here she doesn’t so she finds much of her time is taken with house work. She said she doesn’t have any friends here and I told her I understood how that feels, though she does have her husband, kids and parents-in-laws—they all moved here, which I find extraordinary, especially when I flip the scenario and imagine myself picking up to move to India—how challenging that would be (and it also makes me think of madre moving to Ohio from Mexico/Texas). It was an insightful and challenging evening.