Why I Hate Yoga

A few years ago, I decided to take a yoga class. I bought a cute yoga mat and determined to stretch my way to optimal health and well-being.

Our classes were held at the Rec Center and taught by a woman who never wore makeup and looked as if she lived off granola. She had a voice like an NPR announcer, quiet and monotone, not given to any bursts of excessive enthusiasm. I worked my way through a number of poses and kind of liked it.

Except that I hated it. That's right. I absolutely hated yoga. I tried it again a couple of years later. New gym, new instructor, new yoga pants. Same old hatred of yoga.

You see, the stretching was good. It sometimes hurt, but, overall, it felt pretty good to really push myself to do more. But the thing is, there's more to yoga than just stretching. There's also this whole element of being calm.

I couldn't stand the calm. In fact, yoga, rather than filling me with a sense of peace, made me want to go pick a fist-fight. And, I may be many things, but violent just isn't one of them. For some reason, all that calm--the gentle breathing, the soothing music, the NPR announcer/yoga teacher--just put me on edge.

I don't do calm very well. For some reason, sloth and laziness come fairly easily to me, but those are usually aided by copious amounts of bad television and unhealthy snacks. But, the calm of a yoga class was a kind of calm that forced concentration. And, that sort of concentration can be unsettling.

I was thinking of this as I reflected on just how difficult it can be to pray. I mean, at times prayer just comes naturally, like during a natural disaster or before a test or when you're faced with a personal crisis. Prayer makes sense then. And, when I am saying my prayers at night, while I'm doing the talking, well, prayer seems to make sense then as well. It's comfortable so long as I'm actively engaging in prayer, while I'm making sure I haven't forgotten to pray for anyone, or trying to think of any areas of my life that need attention. It's pretty comfortable so long as I'm doing something.

But, when you think about it, that's not all there is to prayer, because prayer is part of a relationship. There can't be just this one-sided way of communicating; that's not how we truly come to know and understand God.

But, that's the hard part. I think of Psalm 46:10,

"Be still, and know that I am God."

The stillness and the knowing are connected, but how can we make ourselves be still? Don't we organize our lives, even our ways of worship, in ways that are anything but still? We seem to always need to be doing something, taking time away from this important business of stillness, and, in turn, we lose our chance to really know that He is God.

I have to admit, I'm still wary of trying another yoga class. I'd hate to have any of you turn on the news and find out I'd been arrested for assault. But, I am going to try to be still, because I have to think that stillness leads to greater knowledge. And, I can't think of much that would be more calming than the peace that comes from knowing God.