by Sandra Bark
It’s ten p.m. You know where your children are: at home, asleep. But you’re out, about to have that last glass of wine, even though you’re going to wake up in the morning, clutching your hangover, and say: “Why? Why did I do that?”
It’s 11 a.m. You hit send on an unfortunately worded email, and the moment you do, you think “Why? Why did I do that?”
It’s 3 p.m. You have a slice of cake with your coffee: delicious! You pass by the break room an hour later. The last slice beckons…then you are dizzy with sugar and wondering: “Why? Why did I do that?”
We all have our lists of regrets, of I-wish-I-wouldn’t-haves. Mine includes certain haircuts and that wedding in Italy I didn’t go to. I have regretted decisions and indecisions, roads taken and opportunities squandered. I have regretted purchases. I have regretted regret.
I have never regretted a yoga class. I have never worked it out on the mat and then later in the day, wished that I could command-Z the practice. Untriangle? Untree? Unhero? Whatever for?
Of course, I don’t always want to go to yoga, and sometimes I get distracted when I am there. I have clcokwatched and let my mind wander. I have gotten lazy in Warrior 1. I have looked forward to savasana and planned my week and my month and decided what I was going to order for lunch. I have written text messages in my mind, written novels, started arguments, mended fences.
But I have never walked out of a yoga class and thought to myself; “Why? Why did I do that?”
9:15 a.m., noon, 6:45 p.m. Why do we go to yoga? There are so many reasons, physical and metaphysical; it is good therapy, it is good exercise, it is a good way to unwind. We can make new muscles. We can make new friends. We can find transcendence or inversion, a fresh perspective or our own truths.
And my latest reason on the long list of why I practice: because in the end, after the final Om, when I am rolling up my mat, I am always glad to be there. I always feel like I meant to be there, like I anticipated it, like I did my best. And on the walk home, I don’t regret anything.