Many people know that I practice yoga at least a few times a week. Well, likely more, since I am practicing often when I am not on my mat. From the time he was born, I have introduced some aspect of yoga to my son, Miles. At first it was a fun kid’s yoga game that we would play and he learned some of the more kid-friendly poses like the Cat-Cow sequence. Later when he was pushing past the terrible 2’s and making his way to the ripe old ages of 4 and 5, I started teaching him breathing techniques to deal with anger and impulses. Last year when he was 7 creeping towards 8 I enrolled him into a week-long yoga camp put on by Yoga Across America (http://www.yogaacrossamerica.org/drupal-7.0/) and he had a blast. He tried my yoga class once around this time, but it was tough for him and he dropped out about half way through. I was proud of him for making it that far, if he only knew how hard it was for me when I entered that studio for the first time. Later in the year the studio I practice at added kids classes a few days a week, while parents poured and I do mean poured into the main studio to practice. He loved it and he went several times.
Then…
This summer arrived and he turned to me
one day and asked if he could come to my class again. He wanted to spend more time with his dad and
I was pretty committed to my trips to the studio. Let me explain a bit to about where I
practice yoga. It is at Zuda Yoga (http://www.zudayoga.com/) in Sacramento. Zuda teaches Power Vinyasa yoga. This means that a bunch of Type A
personalities pack into a room that is heated to 90 or so degrees and flow
through a practice that includes many moves that build strength. On my first visit to tour the studio a few
years ago the lady at the desk said, “....this practice will get you cut, MMA
guys practice here.” Mind you I had
spent the previous 6 months in a more gentle and restorative practice and was
headed to a Ashram for a week upon hearing this news, but 10 days later there I
was in the back of the room sweating out all the toxins in my body and
observing which of my muscles I had never used or wanted to use. I never drank so much water or created
greater pools of water from my own flesh.
I turned to my then 8 year old son (he
turned 9 in July) that day and said, “Okay.”
This would begin the summer’s journey of about 8 classes of yoga I would
attend with my son. I was excited and a bit skeptical and pretty sure I was
leading him to a pretty big life lesson.
This was true, but the biggest life lesson would be for me, not
him. As all parents know, it is hard for
us to watch our kids do something and not want to assist or fix or make sure
they do it right and follow instructions.
This is particularly true with Miles and I, his independent spirit has
you keeping an eye on him at all times and this does not mix well with yoga. Yoga is you on your mat, pushing through your
crap or knowing when to back off or rest.
Well…
At first this was not an option for
Miles. As we sat in the back corner that
I occupy every time that I practice at Zuda.
Yes, I arrive 30 minutes before class to ensure that I sit in that same
spot each time and have time to meditate.
My son would plop right next to me and we would begin the routine of
filling our water bottles, and laying out our mats and grabbing our blocks. I would meditate and he would go to the
reception/shop area and talk with the friendly staff and other yogi’s as they
came in and hide under the clothing racks.
Sometimes he would pop in to give me a kiss and then disappear back out
front. As practice would near, I would
get nervous and start going out to get him back into the studio and on his mat. I was mostly worried that he was disturbing
someone or would try to skip out on class, but each time he would walk back in
with me, partially complaining about the heat.
On the first day he was great, Miles made
it all the way through, tried most of the poses and only left midway for a few
minutes to go to the bathroom. The bathroom
break would become part of his routine and I would be filled with anxiety each
time, until he returned to his mat and he returned each and every time. The next 2-3 times would be more difficult,
there was more complaining from him, more correction of his poses from me, more
breaks on his mat from him, less pre-practice meditation from me. I was struggling in my practice and was
clearly focused on his mat, not mine.
What is a dad to do? Here he was
typically the only kid in the class and loved by the teachers, staff and other
yogi’s. They all ask about him every
time I go to practice. However, for me
it was not enough and this is where the learning begins.
Through the last 6 classes he would
attend with me, I begin to notice I was journaling in the morning before each class
more and more about my relationship with my son and how I could be more patient
with him, not yell so much, allow him more space to roam in the world. So, I made a commitment to remain on my mat
physically, mentally and spiritually and to let his practice be his own. There was nothing easy in this proposition
and I can say I never fully lived up to it, but I struggled through it each
time. I found that the more I focused on
my practice and me, my heart opened up more, the kinder I was to him and the more
space I gave him to explore his practice.
We always got along better after yoga class. Despite the struggles for
him to complete each class, he always said he felt refreshed after class. It also meant that we were headed home to
change and find food and lots of it, since we were always really hungry
afterwards.
These days I miss his presence in class
and cannot wait for him to join me in December for a few classes during his
break from school. I am thankful that
yoga has deepened and improved my relationship with my “Super Dude” son. However, in
the end the one that really grew was me.
I have grown as father, a yogi and a being, whose self and relationships
have expanded with more kindness, patience, tolerance, compassion and love and
all because my son wanted to do more things with me.
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