Exercise, pleasure, and metaphor
Aug. 21st, 2013 06:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
One of the things I love about my new yoga instructor is that she uses a lot of the language of physical pleasure in her practices. That's actually pretty common in yoga, but she seems extra-focused on it, meaning we get a lot of "rotate your knee outward until you find the sweet spot" and "float your arms comfortably over your head" and "that should be a sweet sensation; back off if it isn't."
I know a lot of people are energized by exercise that uses the language of competition, but it does nothing for me. And I actively dislike exercise carried out with the metaphor of redemptive suffering, where the more you sweat or pant or hurt, the more you can be sure you're doing a good thing.
And the thing is, I do find yoga physically pleasurable -- the exertion and the stretch and the rest are all, for the most part, very physically pleasurable.
When I started doing yoga two years ago, this aspect came as a tremendous shock.
In mid-grade school, I remember reading in one of the Narnia books something along the lines of: if a person could run and run and never tire, then no one would ever want to do anything else. I remember very vividly reading that line, and I also remember that, however old I was, I already self-identified as a fat, lazy kid who hated to exercise, and the line struck me with a pang of longing to be like these other people, who could run and enjoy it.
But I come from a sedentary family, and of course gym class (at best) is predicated on finding those who already know how to be active and letting them do it, while those who don't know how look out for themselves as best they can. There was no one to tell me, "Your muscles are weak, and if you'll push them just the tiniest bit, over and over, they'll get stronger."
In her older years, my mother has discovered water aerobics, and she's passionately devoted to it. When she had her hip replaced, the worst part was how long it kept her out of the water. So only now has she learned this thing that she was unable to teach me: it's not just because it's good for you (or because it will make you thinner).
Using strong muscles feels good.
I know a lot of people are energized by exercise that uses the language of competition, but it does nothing for me. And I actively dislike exercise carried out with the metaphor of redemptive suffering, where the more you sweat or pant or hurt, the more you can be sure you're doing a good thing.
And the thing is, I do find yoga physically pleasurable -- the exertion and the stretch and the rest are all, for the most part, very physically pleasurable.
When I started doing yoga two years ago, this aspect came as a tremendous shock.
In mid-grade school, I remember reading in one of the Narnia books something along the lines of: if a person could run and run and never tire, then no one would ever want to do anything else. I remember very vividly reading that line, and I also remember that, however old I was, I already self-identified as a fat, lazy kid who hated to exercise, and the line struck me with a pang of longing to be like these other people, who could run and enjoy it.
But I come from a sedentary family, and of course gym class (at best) is predicated on finding those who already know how to be active and letting them do it, while those who don't know how look out for themselves as best they can. There was no one to tell me, "Your muscles are weak, and if you'll push them just the tiniest bit, over and over, they'll get stronger."
In her older years, my mother has discovered water aerobics, and she's passionately devoted to it. When she had her hip replaced, the worst part was how long it kept her out of the water. So only now has she learned this thing that she was unable to teach me: it's not just because it's good for you (or because it will make you thinner).
Using strong muscles feels good.
(no subject)
Date: 8/22/13 12:38 am (UTC)Exercise! It's great! But not the way gym teachers approach it. >:|
(no subject)
Date: 8/24/13 01:00 am (UTC)