It's no secret that I've been on the mend of a herniated disk for most of the last year. In my quest to heal thyself, upon my discharge of all formal physical therapy and spine specialist appointments I asked each of my providers if the complementary medicine offering of a personalized yoga plan would be a beneficial excursion for me. Both agreed that I could benefit from a yoga program.
And so it was, with great hope, that I toddled off one early Monday morning to meet a yoga guru who would spend an hour and a half of one-on-one time personalizing a program that could cure me of my PT boredom. The concept of not having to sit in a yoga class with 20 other people, trying to keep up and understand was appealing. The idea of having someone who would evaluate my needs and create a program designed to strengthen my weaknesses was delightful. The thought of a yoga expert focusing on my needs excited me.
Upon arrival I told him what had led me to him. I explained the disk issues, the arthritis and bone spurs in my neck, the bicipital tendonitis that brought excruciating pain. I expounded on the long road back to getting the strength back in my left arm, and how work continually worked against what I was trying to mend. I admitted that I knew nothing about yoga but thought the process could be good for me. I gave credit to my neighbor who had assured me that yoga was an amazing back-strengthening exercise. Yes, this was the right path for me!
The appraisal of my body came next. I climbed onto the massage table while he palpitated my shoulders and spine. He asked about my diet, bad habits, lifestyle. We began to experiment with some breathing techniques. Apparently, I did quite well. And, the only other bit of good news came at this point in the day too. "Your feet are pretty good for a server." Nice. Good to know. Those expensive shoes and extra care I give my feet is paying off.
Servers operate in a "flight or fight" mode during work. Okay, I knew this. The bad news? My body is always in this mode. What? I never relax. Really?
We spent the next hour in a room across the hall trying out stretches, positions, breathing. I am hopelessly tense (at the core) and need to let go. I am "almost trying to get back in the fetal position" with my tense, curling body posture. I pant. I have created misalignments that my body have built calcium to support. I will need to work very hard to undo these deficiencies in my ability to relax.
Meh.
I think worse than finding this out was the reaction of those around me. I called my best friend to tell her what the yoga guy told me. "You needed a yoga guru to tell you that?" I told my boyfriend what the man said. "Okay, but we already knew that." I informed my mother of this horrible news. "Yeah, but that's not news."
How come everyone else knew this? I thought I relaxed sometimes. When I told the yoga guy that I slept well (because I thought this proved I did relax), he practically yelled, "You're exhausted!" Oh. I can't believe that I did not know that I never relax.
I can tell you that having this information has not relaxed me one bit. Now that I am home from vacation, I will begin the long process of learning how to breathe, how to relax, how to stretch those tight muscles that are ready to snap. Sure....piece of cake. I just wish I wasn't the last to know.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Saturday, January 02, 2010
Wear It Well
I don't know why people have cosmetic surgery. Of course, I don't know why people are so stuck on STUFF, either. But everyone should watch this video, and listen to Bob Sima's wise words about those lines on our faces. What a beautiful story a million words could never tell!
Those lines are badges. I would not trade one line, one scar, one memory of what those marks on my face represent. Wear them well. Be proud that you have made it to where you are now. Enjoy this video, and this amazing message.
Those lines are badges. I would not trade one line, one scar, one memory of what those marks on my face represent. Wear them well. Be proud that you have made it to where you are now. Enjoy this video, and this amazing message.
Friday, January 01, 2010
I've Heard of Such Things
New Year's Eve is a server nightmare night. Trust me; it is. I have a tale of two (actually three) tables to share.
My 10-top needed separates. They ordered the cheapest entrees on our special menu for the evening. They hemmed and hawwed about simple decisions or questions for me. I wanted to scream. We have the option to auto-grat (automatically add the tip) to parties of eight or more. I never do, but I did with this group. They were just that lame. Ie: "Can you add booze to the hot chocolate?" Ummm, yeah. People have been doing that for years. Pick something for the bar to add to your hot chocolate.
When I handed out the bills, I made sure each person knew that the tip was included in the total. It went something like this on each end of the table, loud enough for all to hear, because I'm not that server who tries to trick you into tipping twice by not telling you I've added it: "I've included the gratuity so you don't need to worry about it." And yet, two people added a gratuity as though one had never been included. I guess not everyone knows that a gratuity is a tip.
[sigh]
But, there was a shiny bright spot to make the big bad table fade out of view! A server in a neighboring section met me at the point of sale computers and informed me, "My table right there wants to pay for your table right here." Now, this happens. Or a round is bought for a table. It's fun to be the bearer of GOOD news! My table, a young couple with an adorable little boy was just about done. After giving them a box to wrap their leftovers, they told me they were ready for their check. "Ah. Well, there's a Santa here who wants to buy your dinner," I told them gleefully. They looked confused, so I pointed at my coworker's table and said, "Them!" They still looked confused. "Which one??" I pointed again and said those three people at that table. They shook their heads, and left.
Later in the evening, I asked the server of the other table, "Did they know that couple at my table? They seemed confused by your table buying them dinner."
"Oh, no. That man just told me that they wanted to buy that family's dinner. When I asked him if they knew them, he said no, that they just picked someone out to buy dinner for."
How unbelievably cool is that? What is really funny is that I don't know what prompted me to tell them that there was a Santa in the house who wanted to buy their dinner. Normally, I would just say that the table over there wanted to buy them a drink, or had picked up their tab. But I chose to use the word Santa. How did I know? Well, I didn't, but he was like Santa to me too because the couple tipped me 20%, and so did Santa!
Happy New Year!
My 10-top needed separates. They ordered the cheapest entrees on our special menu for the evening. They hemmed and hawwed about simple decisions or questions for me. I wanted to scream. We have the option to auto-grat (automatically add the tip) to parties of eight or more. I never do, but I did with this group. They were just that lame. Ie: "Can you add booze to the hot chocolate?" Ummm, yeah. People have been doing that for years. Pick something for the bar to add to your hot chocolate.
When I handed out the bills, I made sure each person knew that the tip was included in the total. It went something like this on each end of the table, loud enough for all to hear, because I'm not that server who tries to trick you into tipping twice by not telling you I've added it: "I've included the gratuity so you don't need to worry about it." And yet, two people added a gratuity as though one had never been included. I guess not everyone knows that a gratuity is a tip.
[sigh]
But, there was a shiny bright spot to make the big bad table fade out of view! A server in a neighboring section met me at the point of sale computers and informed me, "My table right there wants to pay for your table right here." Now, this happens. Or a round is bought for a table. It's fun to be the bearer of GOOD news! My table, a young couple with an adorable little boy was just about done. After giving them a box to wrap their leftovers, they told me they were ready for their check. "Ah. Well, there's a Santa here who wants to buy your dinner," I told them gleefully. They looked confused, so I pointed at my coworker's table and said, "Them!" They still looked confused. "Which one??" I pointed again and said those three people at that table. They shook their heads, and left.
Later in the evening, I asked the server of the other table, "Did they know that couple at my table? They seemed confused by your table buying them dinner."
"Oh, no. That man just told me that they wanted to buy that family's dinner. When I asked him if they knew them, he said no, that they just picked someone out to buy dinner for."
How unbelievably cool is that? What is really funny is that I don't know what prompted me to tell them that there was a Santa in the house who wanted to buy their dinner. Normally, I would just say that the table over there wanted to buy them a drink, or had picked up their tab. But I chose to use the word Santa. How did I know? Well, I didn't, but he was like Santa to me too because the couple tipped me 20%, and so did Santa!
Happy New Year!
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