Free Balancing Acts by Zoe Fishman Page A

their suitcases and shower caddies—their clothes smelling of Mom’s detergent. Their nervousness was endearing, but Charlie had to nip it in the bud now, if she expected them to get anywhere in that morning’s class. They had only six weeks, after all. They had to let go.
    Bess spread out her mat carefully and sat at its edge. Yoga had never held an iota of interest for her before. She preferred running. It wasn’t a workout for her unless she felt like she might die around the halfway point. She thought about her article and closed her eyes, pretending to relax although her mind was racing. She would try to take the subway back in with Sabine after class. That way, she could start gathering some information for the article. Six weeks felt like an impossibly short amount of time to get to know these women inside and out, but she didn’t have a choice. She had to make every minute count.
    â€œHey Bess,” whispered Charlie, “ease up honey.” She took Bess’s hands, which were balled into fists by her side, and unfurled them. “Don’t think right now, just be.” Although Bess’s eyes were closed, she rolled them. Already, yoga annoyed her. Such was the sacrifice she had to make though. She took a deep breath.
    Naomi perched on the end of her mat. It had been so long since she had truly acknowledged her body. She couldn’t remember a time postpregnancy that she had given it her undivided attention like this. She looked down at her belly, slightly protruding over the waistband of her pants as she sat, cross-legged. And there were her breasts, firmly contained within the impenetrable shield of her sports bra but considerably less perky than they had been before Noah. She straightened her spine and took a deep breath. This is not about perky breasts, she reminded herself. Her brief experience with prenatal yoga had been refreshingly devoid of any physical insecurities, but Naomi suspected that had to do much more with maternal celebration of the baby growing inside her than with the state of her self-confidence.
    â€œI want to take a moment to welcome you all here,” began Charlie. “I am honored to introduce you to yoga. I know you must all be slightly intimidated by the idea of moving your bodies in new ways. Maybe you’re a bit apprehensive about the idea of letting your minds go and of connecting with a much more interior sense of being. All of that is completely normal.”
    Sabine listened intently to Charlie, somewhat entranced by the soothing nature of her voice. Already she felt her tension subsiding.
    â€œBefore we begin, I want to talk a little bit about the type of yoga we will all be practicing here. We will be practicing vinyasa yoga, which is a technique that focuses on connecting our postures, or asanas, with our breath. Vinyasa is all about achieving balance through this connection.” Charlie paused, acknowledging the furrowed brows of her pupils. She was losing them. “This all sounds horribly technical, I know, but once we begin, it will seem far less textbook and, hopefully, much more organic. Eventually, to maintain our asanas, we’ll be incorporating some of the blocks, blankets, and straps you saw against the back wall when you came in.”
    Sabine turned her head to examine the wall of props. This was sounding far less enticing than it had at alumni night. She had been seduced by the thought of sinuous arm muscles a la Gwyneth and now, finding out that she would be strapped into some kind of yogic torture device for the next six Saturdays, her own floppy triceps were sounding much more like something she could live with. She sighed deeply.
    â€œSabine, I hope that’s a sigh of extreme excitement,” joked Charlie. Sabine blushed. Subtlety was not her strong suit.
    â€œI want you all to close your eyes, please,” continued Charlie. “Connect with your bodies. Feel the way your neck sits on top of your