Comfort Zone

Chapter 11

Wednesday morning was yoga. Belle covered as best as she could, protecting her from all but true emergencies, and Miriam hardly remembered the last time her phone went off (vibrating, of course, so as not to disturb the class). Miriam had started yoga when she noticed her blood pressure climbing. She decided to take her own oft-repeated advice about cutting down on processed and canned foods (very high in salt!) and trying some form of stress reduction.

She'd found the class several months before and hadn't yet missed a week. The class fit her requirements: nearby, informal, and not in the least intimidating. Not the kind of class where the other yogis were balancing on their hands, jumping from one impossible position to another wearing perfectly fitting spandex. This teacher took time to explain each pose, to correct each student's alignment gently.

Miriam loved the beginning of the class, when she sat with eyes closed for several minutes, just breathing. So what if her thoughts raced around in her head like toddlers on Cuban coffee. No one knew, no one cared, no one judged.

"Downward dog, now. Inverted V. Make sure your fingers are spread in front like a sunburst, arms straight, kneecaps up. Julie, move your legs a little further back. Now you got it! Looking good, class. Barking allowed!" Inverted V meant butt way up in the air. Impossible not to have dirty thoughts, Miriam mused. Damn it, don't think of Barlow now! Don't think of the ridiculous comment he'd make, like--

Is that a downward dog, or are you just happy to see me?

Standing poses were next, like triangle and warrior. "Legs and arms open wide apart, turn to one side, front foot out, back foot in. Look out over your front arm and bend that knee parallel to the floor.

"Descend, flexing the knee deeper. Ascend, spine stretching up to the sky.

"Reach forward toward your goals. Stretch back, honoring the past."

Miriam followed her teacher's voice but--down, up, forward, back?

I'm being pulled in too many directions!

"And now relax into it."

Relax?

Into the discomfort Miriam attempted to go, thigh muscles quivering. Enjoy the pose, her teacher always coaxed. Play with it. Peddle back and forth and find your balance of opposites. Wrestle with the opposing forces holding you up, threatening to topple you, each pose a balance between effort and surrender.

"Fall, lose your footing? So what! Get back up. You're a warrior now!

"Smile!"

The world always seemed more muted after yoga, its harsh edges burned off. Ditto the office. Even Belle's mascot, a large, heavy wood fish painted in garish colors, a gift from a patient, appeared more pastel. Miriam suspected she acted differently, heard her voice drop to a lower range.

She was calm, serene and balanced--even though she saw Gary Lindner's at the end of her list of patients. She remembered his first visit, when he showed up wearing a white shirt and tie and she thought he was a cute drug rep. But now, all she could think was "oh-no-not-him" when she saw his name.

"He's not so bad," Belle said when she complained.

"You see him next time," Miriam said. "He's perfectly healthy; he doesn't need me."

"He seems to think he does," Belle said.

The first visit he was vague, unclear why he wanted to see a doctor, and she gently probed into sensitive issues. Sexual difficulties? Suicidal thoughts?