I tend to think of yoga as a workout and I look forward to the way it energizes me, but yoga also has the power to warm and soothe me. Of course, I’ve been doing this Challenge for a while so it’s not surprising that I might need a more gentle class. One thing I like about taking a day “off” is that I know I’ll feel more excited about working hard tomorrow.

I didn’t want to stay in restorative postures the whole time, so I combined a few of Cyndi’s shorter programs to give myself exactly what I wanted. I start with the Daily Warm-Up stretches, then went on to do leg stretches, which also really helped soothe my lower back. It wasn’t in pain or anything, but it was feeling a little tight. Then, I did a Locust and Bow series to strengthen my back. This also gave my legs a chance to rest.

Next, to stretch my back, I did some seated Forward Bends and a bunch of Child’s Pose variations. Then, I forced myself to do something I’m not always comfortable doing: I got out blankets, eye pillows, pillows, and blocks, to do some fully restorative poses.

Although I did a restorative class a few days before I began the Challenge, and although Cyndi suggests a restorative class on Sunday in her weekly practice book, I’m not always comfortable thinking about yoga as a practice that involves such deep relaxation. Restorative postures are almost more luxurious than sleep because I am conscious of how much I am letting go of my body. To me, this level of ease involves a fair amount of trust because I can truly feel myself letting go of the control I usually have over my body. And, while I am a very deep and easy sleeper (and I make sure that I sleep enough), I’m not a great relaxer.

The most restorative pose, for me, is supported backbend. In this posture, we lie with pillows under our knees, feet, back, neck, and arms. It involves a lot of experimentation with what level of support and height make you most comfortable. It is the most extreme level of self-love. A real challenge for me.

Today, we started the class in Hero’s Pose and I asked them to tell me what a hero is. One little boy said you’re a hero when you do the right thing. Isn’t that awesome? So simple and true. I love that definition. We went on to practice Ujjayi breathing, Cat/Dog, Reed, Sun Salutation, Seated Twist, Airplane, Tree, and Lion. If you speak quietly to a class of 15 small children, they will stay quiet and they will imitate you. When I moved my hands, they moved their hands. When I leaned forward, they leaned forward. It’s a lot of responsibility and yet very flattering (even though it has nothing to do with me, of course). They really are little mimic-ers.

We ended the class with a Lovingkindness meditation. During the meditation, I told the children to start by saying something nice to themselves. Then I said something nice to myself out loud so they could hear an example. I noticed they all started to smile right away because it seems really funny even to a four-year-old to hear someone be nice to herself. Then, I told them to say something nice to someone they loved. Finally, we said something nice to someone in the room. We were supposed to do this quietly, of course, but they were all whispering when they meditated. I heard a lot of them just say, “I love you” to whoever it was they were thinking about.

At the end of today’s class, all the kids seemed really happy. Not in a loud, boisterous way, but in a really calm way.

It’s all a process. The next time I see them, I will have them think about sending the feeling of love to themselves and to others. But instead of using words of love, we’ll talk about the feeling and how about how to give that feeling to others without words. To just think good things about others.

It may not be impressive to teach small children. I mean, it’s not as impressive as doing a full handstand for 20 second or doing a completely flowing vinyasa. No one oohs and ahs or envies my time in a room of small children. But, today, 15 kids learned that an adult in their lives thinks it’s important for them to breathe deeply and speak lovingkindness to others. So, it may not be impressive, but it matters.

My energy is high today because I worked hard on my strength during today’s class. I intentionally slowed down my Sun Salutation to hover in my Chaturanga and I focused on being very strong during the standing postures.

One of the best pieces of yoga advice I ever received was about keeping my core strong while I was attempting inversions. It had never occurred to me before this class on inversions to use my core to hold my weight. Instead, like many people, I tried to hold myself up with my arms, which, of course, aren’t nearly as strong as my abs.

Another great idea: when you’re jumping forward, first focus on getting your weight onto your shoulders and wrists, then lift your legs off the floor. That weight shift really makes the jump much easier and much more “floaty,” like it’s supposed to be.

Strength is interesting because, when I was young, women weren’t supposed to want to be strong. I started lifting weights in my late teens, developing a real love of dumbbells and barbells. I remember how shocked my mother was when I bought weights heavier than two pounds. My mom thinks it’s much feminine to be weak, but I’m very proud of my strength. I still remember a time, about twenty years ago, when I had been lifting pretty seriously in New York City. I pushed the subway turnstile and it practically flew all around! I didn’t realize how strong I had become with just a little focus and time.

That kind of reminds me of this Challenge. I guess (looking into the future) I hope my increased strength does make me a little more floaty in just a few weeks! I’d really love to be able to jump with more ease from my Down Dog to my Forward Bend!

The 31-Day Classes challenge is forcing me to “do it today.” I can’t plan to practice tomorrow, instead I have to figure out how I’m going to practice today and I’m very grateful for that aspect of this exercise in consistency and commitment.

For the first third of my life, I thought a lot about the future. “When I grow up…..” I think a lot of us do this, but, in my case, all of that “future” living really kept me from being in the present and I missed out on a lot of things, such as playing and dating. For the next 12 years or so, I thought a lot about the past (for example, the playing and dating I missed, and even back to my family’s history). In some ways, this was good, since it helped me process and revolutionize not only my “self,” but, in turn, my family and my relationships.

Then, at about age 40 or so, I got kind of stuck. I had no need anymore to look back and I was no longer intrigued by the future very much, since I was already middle-aged. I was left with only one time to consider. Now.

“Now,” to state the obvious, is short. Ooops…there it goes! So, what are we, as yogis, supposed to do with such a short amount of time? Well, first of all, I think that we are gifted, as human beings, to be able to consider the past and the future. I couldn’t write this column or remember why I love my mother and son if I couldn’t remember the past. Likewise, I couldn’t plan my today if I didn’t have the ability to consider the future. I had a lot of things to do today: make breakfast, football practice, a Cub Scout trip, yoga, write this column–that would not have gotten done if I hadn’t been able to shape the future in the way I need to.

But think of that! I was able to shape my day! I have the power (and the freedom, thanks to living in this country and having finances and health) to create whatever day I want. Today, I chose yoga.

You probably chose yoga in your day, too, and I would like to suggest that maybe, for us, “now” is “every day.” So, let’s talk about “us.”

While we’ll have moments of doubt and moments of choices, for the most part we have each day to create. If we choose to create a day with yoga and peace then we are creating a week of yoga and peace, then a month, then a year. We can choose a day with music and dancing, a walk outside and maybe a social justice action (one small thing: write a letter, donate some time or money), a day where we work on our art and take care of our business. This day, this day we create, will become a lifetime of social justice action, clean business, and some calm. We may discover that we don’t even think about tomorrow because each day will have become a habit of the life we were hoping would happen one day.

So, this morning (it’s my birthday) I had two things that I hardly ever have: time and privacy. I really wanted to do a nice, long yoga class but I also wanted to dance around my bedroom to loud rock n’ roll. I’ve probably spent about a year of my life dancing alone in my bedroom to a wide repertoire of music, but mostly The Clash, Prince, Hothouse Flowers, Brian Setzer, Raul Malo, and, these days, to Beyoncé’s Single Ladies. My bedroom dancing is very unorganized. I don’t listen to each song for its entirety; I do the same steps over and over (a combination shimmy, Pony, and spin are my specialties). My yoga practice, on the other hand, is pretty organized, even if I’m doing my own class.

When I want to combine my yoga and dance, I just put on some music and do my Sun Salutes a little faster and with some hip-shaking. It feels great, mostly because I’m not busy thinking, “I’m missing something.” It’s a little greedy (because I’m doing two things at once) and maybe a little sloppy (if I’m doing two things at once I’m probably not doing either one very well), but I’m a bit of a self-indulgent person (or at least, I try to be!).

Of course, one of my favorite yoga poses is The Dancer, but I’m also a big fan of Wild Thing, which, as far as I can see isn’t in any of Cyndi’s books. I like it because it stretches me and puts me out of balance, which is fun. I like the name, too, I’ll be honest.

I’m a writer, but I’ve always found writing to be too sedentary. In fact, I write standing up, with my laptop on my dresser. I’m not good at sitting still and often, in meetings, I’m the person standing in the corner (literally) because I just can’t sit for anything more than five minutes. Unless I’m meditating. I have been meditating for about 15 years and I’ve sat for a few hours at a time, completely relaxed and calm. Most odd, though, is that I don’t want to get up when I’m meditating. My whole energy changes (well, I guess that’s the point) and I’m not antsy or fidgety like I am during meetings.

Anyway, this morning was a high-energy day. I’m having a great birthday so far, so I put on my favorite radio station, www.wers.org, while I did about 20 Sun Salutes, two variations. Then I did some random postures, including Wild Thing, and I didn’t really calm my brain or focus on my breath or do any of those yoga things. I just stretched and tried to be strong and enjoyed the gift of the day.

Today, lovingkindness has been on my mind. Actually, lovingindness was on my mind yesterday because I took a workshop on original play (www.originalplay.com) and the teacher, Chris, used the word lovingkindness. I never hear anyone say that word in my everyday life, even though I think of it as my life philosophy. Not that I always practice it. I try to always practice, but I fail. Pretty much every day.

Someone I see a few times during the week carries a handbag that has lithographs of pastel-colored handguns on it. Today, she told me about when she worked with autistic adults and how difficult it was because they hurt her a lot. They physically bruised her and put her through a wall and she had to take care of their bodily functions. She wasn’t complaining, either. She was just telling me about them and how she would bring them to the doctor to fight for their medications. So, even though she’s got the handguns all over her purse, she’s also got this level of caring within her.

I kept trying to reconcile my judgment of her because when I first saw the handgun-covered purse I was horrified. I even told my sister-in-law about it, as in, “what kind of person carries a purse with handguns on it when they’re around kids all the time?” But today, I was talking with her and she kept touching my knee in this very warm way and I really liked her. Then, she opened her handgun bag to show me pictures of her kids and I found that I wasn’t horrified anymore. I still liked her. I just didn’t like her purse.

I really stand out in my world, and I don’t mean in a good way. I’m a single mother in a world of married couples. I’m a solidly working class person in a world of upper middle class paychecks. I’m a writer in a world of marketing executives and chemists. I’m from Brooklyn. I’ve lived in six different states. It takes a lot of the people around me some time to give me a chance because I’m different.

One great thing about yoga everyday is that everyday I sit for five minutes in the quiet and that immediately moves me from a place of judgment to lovingkindness. I don’t know why. But sometimes my yoga happens out on the sidelines of the football field. That’s what happened today. I was able to just sit on the bleachers and listen to her tell her stories and feel as open and calm as I do when I meditate. It was dark outside and the field lights were on. The kids were running around, throwing the ball, the parents were standing around talking, the handguns were on her purse and my Free Tibet button was on my purse and there we were. It was a moment of lovingkindness, I would say, on all sides.

So, I went into tonight’s 60-minute program with a fairly light heart. All was well until I got to Bow pose; a pose that used to be one of my favorites.

I am blessed with a nicely flexible back, hamstrings, and quads. Backbends have always been easy for me and I’ve always had a bit of ego about the shape my Bow can take: feet high, arms back, hands on my feet, everything nicely arched and round.

That was until a couple of years ago. Then, everything changed. Or, rather, I changed. A few years ago I had to spend a lot of time in a car and in classrooms so I was sitting far more than usual and I had far less time to exercise, too. For the most part, my practice didn’t change dramatically, even though its parameters did. I think having had a regular practice for so long was kind of like insurance. Except for this! This one thing! My Bow pose. I couldn’t hold it! I couldn’t get as high as I used to!

I immediately started to worry that this was the beginning of the end for me. I started to look for signs that other poses were beginning to fail, too. But then, something weird happened:

My life calmed down and I was able to practice my yoga a little more regularly and strenuously. I found that, little by little, my Bow began to extend and lengthen a bit. My legs were higher, shoulders stronger, and my arms longer. I really felt good in the pose but, more than that, I felt better than I did when I used to practice. I realized that when I was younger, my pose really didn’t require a lot of focus. It just was. I was young! It was easy! But now, it was work. And the work actually worked. I was seeing a real difference in my practice, which felt far more rewarding than just getting the prize because I was lucky enough to be born with elasticity.

I hope that, in your practice today, you were able to work for something that didn’t come easily. In fact, one of my favorite sayings is from Mark Twain. “Most folks don’t recognize opportunity, because it is dressed in overalls and looks like hard work.” In my case, opportunity is dressed in leggings and a tank top and looks like a Bow.

One of the things I like about this challenge is that, for the most part, I have been in it. By that I mean, I haven’t distracted myself from my practice with music or even with a teacher’s voice or other classmates. I’ve been in my office/studio, it’s often been dark (since it’s so early in the morning), and I’ve just had one of Cyndi’s books in front of me. I teach yoga, so I could do my own class if I wanted to, but following Cyndi’s program gives me focus and, in a way, helps me “think” less. I have to make fewer decisions about which pose I want to do or think I need to do.

This 90-minute class has everything from lying on your back in corpse to a handstand, so it feels as if nothing is missing and that I’m getting it all. Ninety minutes is a lot of time to dedicate to anything. If you’re going to the studio for 90 minutes, then it’s even more time out of your day because you have to get there and back from wherever you are and wherever you’re going.

I’ve tried hard, during these first few days of the Challenge, to not talk to myself during my class. Instead, I’ve committed to focus on my breath. I’m doing this specifically because if I try to achieve a certain level of ability in my postures then I will definitely get into the whole “do better” conversation in my head and I really just don’t want to go there. Also, I believe that if I stay away from the “do better” conversation, then I am actually more likely to go to a “better” place with my postures. It’s ironic, but I believe that removing the judgmental part of my self-talk will bring me farther.

Anyway, I was about 40 minutes into my 90-minute class when I thought maybe I should quit. I was tired. The sun wasn’t even up yet! I could actually see a star in the sky outside my window. That’s how dark it was! I let myself have that thought for a second and then I looked at the next series of postures I was supposed to do: a bunch of warriors, triangles, and side angles.

Ah. I love them. I like standing on my two feet better than on one. I like standing better than sitting and lying, and I like extending better than contracting. But, instead of going there, I decided to come back to my breath. I let my shoulders drop away from my ears for a bit and then I connected to my breath again and tried to not focus on the actual poses I was in, even thought they were poses I like.

This intention really works for me because when I focus on my breath I find that I am attempting, too, to bring the oxygen into whatever place in my body actually needs the push of air to expand and support itself. It’s quite an extraordinary experience to feel.

If you’re struggling to continue the challenge, I invite you to focus on your breath in your next class, rather than on your body. Let me know how it feels.

I’m fortunate to work right next to The Princeton Institute for Advanced Study, which is basically a thinktank for supersmart people, like Einstein (a long time ago). The Institute has some woods behind it, which have been saved from development, so people like me can walk through its muddy trails when they have a few minutes. Anyway, I was excited to have a chance to take a walk today, because I have a new iPod Touch, but then I realized, “hey, no, this is my yoga walk!” so I didn’t bring my iPod and instead I tried to walk slowly through the woods, looking at the mud beneath my feet and the trees in front of the sky.

Yoga, as many of you know, is not just hatha yoga–the thing that we all do in a yoga class, where we move and get into postures and breathe and sweat. Yoga is a lot of things, especially for those of us who have a commitment to our practice. It is a way of life and a choice to be present in the moment. To pay attention. When we’re in Down Dog, we pay attention to our backs and our hips and our shoulders and our breath and we try to let go of what gets in the way of those things, such as worrying about the mortgage or whether or not we’ll ever have a chance to meet Daniel Craig on the beach after we’ve lost twenty pounds.

I was totally present in the woods this morning and I consciously tried to walk slower than I usually do, which is quite a task for anyone who tends to set goals (as in “take 31 yoga classes in 31 days”). Imagine, for example, if Cyndi had set the goal to take 31 Restorative Classes in 31 Days. That’s a whole different challenge, right? Anyway, I walked slowly and breathed deeply, and heard these two really loud birds right above me. They might have been hawks or blue jays. I found them flying through the trees, which are very tall. I considered the mud, which was pretty thick and deep. It was all good.

As I walked, I saw, ahead of me, some of the fourth-grade students from my school. With their science teacher (and the help of a GPS) they had mapped out the solar system through the Institute Woods. The sun was in the science room while the planets were little balls placed in the woods but in the scale distance of where they would be in space. The students had just collected Neptune from a far end of the forest.

There we were in the woods, walking through outer space. Feet in the mud, head in the stars, completely conscious of the wood and air around us. Heaven.

Before Class: I don’t ever have to force myself to go to yoga. It has been a constant in my life for three decades. I’ve had the screen name “yogadonna” since 1995 and there are people in my life who actually call me by that name. I carry my mat with me when I travel. The question is never “will I do yoga?” but when and how will I do it today? Today, for example, I woke up with allergies (so I’m tired), and I had to do things with my son, so I did about 30 minutes from Cyndi’s book, focusing mostly on standing postures since I was in the car a lot yesterday.

During Class: I’ve been told that if the “rote” part of your brain is engaged (walking or showering, for example) then the more creative part of your brain is released to feel its full power. That’s why so many of us have great ideas in the shower or while we’re running or walking. I hate to admit that, at times, yoga can become rote for me. I try to be conscious (I mean, truly conscious) during my practice, but I’ve found that I have to keep a pen and pad nearby so that I can more easily let go of a thought or idea while I practice. If I don’t write it down, then I try to hold on to it, so I just give in and then let it go once it is down on paper. For the most part, though, I think I do stay mostly engaged with my body and breath since it is the engagement that makes me happiest. The ideas, to be honest, kind of get in the way of how happy I am during class.

After Class: I was so at One after my San Francisco Bikram class (back in the 80s) that I would literally run from the studio (in the Marina neighborhood) to my apartment (North Beach). I’m not a runner, but somehow that didn’t matter. I felt so at Peace after my Friday night classes in Manhattan (in the 90s) that I could ride the subway back to my Brooklyn apartment and not hear the squeal of breaks, which normally reverberated between my ears and all the way down my spine for hours. Yoga carries me through hours after it is officially “over.”

My yoga practice is never about how many Down Dogs I do or whether I stay straight during Chaturanga. It is much more about how I engage with the class before, during, and afterward that makes it so meaningful. Today was a nice day because I saw my family, went outside for a while, and took care of my house, but my yoga was a bit of an afterthought….so…I’m a little sad.