The Unexpected Return of Meatbending

In November 2017, freshly settled in Vancouver, I crouched to lace up my shoes and was greeted by a sharp, shooting, stabbing pain knifing through my lower back.

“Am I really falling apart already?”, I thought with horror in my veins.

Shocked and appalled, convinced I was much too young to be experiencing anything like I’d just felt, beginning to recognize the wear and tear accruing on my body after 13 years of competitive hockey followed by 5 years of bodybuilding, and recently moved to a city whose personality makeup is 64% yoga, I began Googling for a studio.

From what I could glean through a website, I liked the vibe from an inked up Risto Duggan, who taught a variety of classes at One Yoga, a 15 minute walk from home. 

The next day, without a clue what I was in for, I showed up for his ‘Rocket Yoga’ class…

Which stretched me—literally and figuratively—in ways a lifetime of hockey and bodybuilding hadn’t prepared me for. My arms quivered in downward dog, my triangle pose was drunken, and my inversions brought shame upon the word…

But I was hooked.

In the months that followed, I practised with Risto 3-4 times per week, split between the aforementioned Rocket classes and his more restorative, relaxing Yin sessions. 

Incredibly, 3-4 weeks after that oh-so-challenging first class, my physical pain was gone, I was recovering better from my gym sessions, and my body was strengthening, stabilizing, lengthening, and adapting quicker than I could have dreamed possible.

I kept this pace for the following year, until my life twisted, turned, and I left the city—from which point on, my yoga practise began to crumble and fade, allowing pain, stiffness, and tightness to quietly reclaim their torrid hold over my body. 

Despite the growing discomfort, my excuses piled up: 

As with many things, practising yoga at home while following along on YouTube isn’t so deeply satisfying as in the flesh. The teacher has a huge impact as well, and I struggled to find anyone as good a fit as Risto. Plus, Rocket is a unique flow not widely taught. In essence, everything I’d grown to love about yoga was unavailable to me once I left the city.

So for these frustrating, silly, self-inflicted reasons, despite dealing with chronic pain and nasty amounts of tightness all over in the years since, I didn’t return to my mat.

Until last Sunday evening, where with scarcely a conscious thought, I pulled up one of Risto’s sparse few YouTube videos and sunk into 30 minutes of Yin.

As I melted into the first pose, guided by Risto’s soothing tones and guided breathing, familiarity washed over me. My body groaned in protest, yet seemed to whisper, “Finally, you stubborn cottonheaded ninnymuggins!”

So I’ve set myself a loose target of hitting the mat every other day, which I’m pleased to have stuck to this week. And despite these sessions not being as deeply satisfying as attending classes in person, I can’t deny that my body has responded well already.

And so I’m writing this particular Whimsie as a memo of commitment:

Meatbending—as I lovingly refer to yoga—is back on the menu. 

Knowing how well my body responds and in recognizing I need more of this sorta movement, not practising would be utterly foolish of me. I’m looking forward to tapping back into the energy I cultivated when I was practising in Vancouver. 

For now, I’ll stick with the few Yin and Rocket classes Risto has on YouTube. In the New Year, I’ll have a poke around locally and see if anyone’s classes appeal.

I miss being able to kick up into and hold handstands with ease, and even a semblance of grace. I miss the peaceful sense of flow and fluidity I was able to submerge myself in for hours at a time. I miss the subtly roaring inner fire that builds during Rocket. And I miss being challenged by balancing and inversion.

In penning this story, I realise I’ve missed yoga with the same kind of spiritual weight and emptiness as when I wasn’t writing or creating anything for myself—a wound I began healing by crafting these Whimsies.

So here’s to my return to meatbending with regularity once more—a practise that reminds me to move, to breathe, and rediscover my own rhythm. 

Namaste,

~ Alexander

(AKA: Wiz, WOW, and The Wizard of Wordcraft)