Free Balancing Acts by Zoe Fishman Page B

shoulders and your shoulders extend into your arms, and your arms into your outstretched hands.”
    Bess unclenched her hands, which were rolled into tight fists again, despite Charlie’s unfurling of them just minutes before. Take it easy, Bess, she said to herself. She wondered if her nervousness was just a natural product of her covert intentions, or whether she was just wound up beyond repair by nature.
    â€œI’d like to start class in what is called Vajrasana, or thunderbolt,” said Charlie. “Sit on your heels with your knees and feet together and your arms above your head,” she began.
    God, this feels gooood, thought Bess, surprised. Knots she didn’t even know she had unclenched as she stretched toward the ceiling.
    â€œOkay, now exhale and lower your arms with your palms facing down,” said Charlie, as the women all released collective whooshes of relief.
    â€œLet’s do it again,” said Charlie, taking the women through the second of four of the stretches.
    She circled the room, cognizant of how tough the class would be for Sabine, Bess, and Naomi just because of the nature of yoga. It wasn’t something that you reaped the benefits from physically until you were relatively comfortable with the process. It was nearly impossible to relax when every movement was new and challenging. She hoped that their six classes together would be enough to establish a true level of comfort for all of them.
    â€œThroughout class, I would like you all to be as mindful as possible about your breathing—inhaling and exhaling fully and deeply,” Charlie explained. “I know it can be difficult to move through these foreign positions and keep track of your breath, but I also know that the flow of the two into each other will become more comfortable for you as time goes on.” She smiled reassuringly.
    Sabine opened one eye quizzically. She could barely walk and chew gum at the same time, much less be mindful of her breathing while she contorted herself into pretzel-like positions. She thought of her mother in a yoga class and stifled a laugh. When she had mentioned the yoga class to her, she had given Sabine her standard advice: “Wear lipstick, for God’s sake. There could be a young man there, you never know.” Sabine envisioned bringing Julian home and giving her mother a heart attack. “I met him in yoga class, Ma!” she would exclaim, as Julian pirouetted into the living room—George and Michael trotting in beside him.
    â€œWe’re now going to move into Tadasana, or mountain pose. This is the basic standing pose,” said Charlie. The women stood up from their mats, following her direction. “Keep your spine straight and your feet together. Your heels and big toes should be touching each other. Keep your stomach in, Bess,” Charlie chided gently.
    â€œFrom here, we move into Vrksasana, or the tree pose.” As she demonstrated the pose, she noticed Sabine struggling to maintain her balance. As she wobbled, her brow furrowed in obvious frustration. Charlie moved across the room to help her.
    â€œSabine, try to let go,” encouraged Charlie.
    Sabine shook her head in frustration. “I’m sorry, Charlie,” she said. “I just can’t get this.” Tears welled up in her eyes, much to her own horror.
    â€œHey,” whispered Charlie. “It’s okay. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Comfort here takes time and practice.” She wanted to go on to say that the pressure Sabine was putting on herself was the very thing preventing her from “getting it,” but her instincts (and the fact that Sabine was very near tears) told her that this was not the time.
    â€œStay for a few counts in this pose, breathing deeply,” instructed Charlie, moving from Sabine’s side to address everyone. “Lower your arms and separate your palms. Straighten your right leg and stand again in