Why is something so sweet and gentle sounding as “Yoga”, taught by a polite young lady to a class of twenty women and myself, so difficult for me?
I fall on my side, knocking over the person next to me, but I keep doing it. The instructor comes to me, kindly stifling a giggle, and says, “See if you can straighten your leg." "PFFT!" I say, but I keep doing it. My thighs scream obscenities at me, but I keep doing it. My arms are shaking for reasons unknown, but I keep doing it.
And here’s why:
ALL LEARNING OCCURS OUTSIDE OF THE COMFORT ZONE.
If I’m comfortable, then I’m not learning. If I'm not struggling with my new computer software, if I’m not trying to figure out how to upload a video to Facebook from my smartphone, if I’m not scratching my head at the confusing philosophy of some new author…then I’m not learning. And if I’m not learning, then I might as well be dead, because at the rate of change today, not learning leads straight to dependency. It's the mental equivalent to checking yourself into a nursing home, and I'm not ready to let go of the reins just yet, thank you.
So, I may be 55 and practicing some of the ugliest Yoga in the room, but at least I'm learning something, and not just sitting (comfortably) on the couch watching TV. (And dying slowly, one sitcom at a time.)