Me! Yoga?

Like most men, I've always been rather skeptical about meditation. When it came to achieving inner tranquillity, I'd done okay with repeats of Friends and an occasional can of Castle.

Yet there I was, a little more than two years ago, sitting cross-legged on the floor for what I hoped would be a stress-relieving hour of yoga meditation. As I looked around the room where this lesson was being given, it seemed as if a stereotype had come to life: a bald man in a robe walked among us holding a stick while, eyes closed, we tried to focus on nothing but our breathing. 

Then I learned what the stick was for. I moved - a twitch really - and this holy man did something I never would have expected.

He whacked me on the top of the head!

I spent the rest of the session flinching, anticipating the next blow. Everyone else seemed peaceful and serene, but by the end of the class I was ready to challenge our leader to a fight. Lets see how yoga-like he'll be when I'm smashing his face in.

It would have been easy to dismiss meditation as either bogus or demented. But I was desperate. My anxiety levels were soaring, my ability to sleep was plummeting and this is when migraines chose to strike. It was when I locked my keys in the car and the house on the same day that I knew I needed something to unscatter my thoughts.

My solution was to meditate on my own - to become, in effect, my own yogi. I've since discovered that just 15 minutes a day of meditation helps me not only to relax but also to concentrate better when I'm working.

But I ain't going back to that old man's lessons afterall I can't even fold my legs the way he wants me to. His yoga ain't the thing for me. Mine is. However it's been exactly 18 months since I last practiced but my tribulations of late might revive my routine.