Do You Know About Yoga?

This was the question the osteopath asked me last time I was there. I sat there for a moment and thought do I respond to that question or not? I decided simply to nod.

If you look at the previous quotation referring to the third Patanjali “book” union achieved, it is a very long way from tight yoga pants, a rolled-up mat and all kinds of health generating bendiness.

I have been meditating for more than 30 years if you include the Zen of laser alignment in. I have done more than twenty years of raja visualisation yoga. Some of the thought forms which I have built are of an incredible intricacy and some took months to construct. I have used Western {rose} and Eastern {lotus} methodologies. I kept a lab book!!

I’ll wager that should I go to an Asana yoga class I would be amongst the least flexible there, physically. This has become truer as my bilateral hip osteoarthritis develops. Because of this and my physical shape {front row rugby forward} I would not fit easily into the modern stereotype of a yogin. But he, the osteopath is right, I could probably benefit from physical plane yoga. Not sure how I would feel as the old git in a class. The time for that is not yet.

How may of the modern self-diagnosed yoginis live metaphorically in a cave away from social interaction and temptation? People find it hard to believe what can be viewed as my social isolation.

Yoga is an add on and not a way of life for many, part of a busy social calendar.  I have no doubt that it is very a good thing.

Apart from brief chats with the wife in hospital over the weekend, the only person I have spoken with in four days was the checkout lady this morning.

I said « bonjour, je n’ai pas une carte de fidélité, bonne journée and au revoir. »

That was it, the sum total of words.

Since her admission the only oral social interaction I have had was a Skype call to Las Palmas with a former colleague of mine from the early nineties. We worked closely together and all though we don’t keep closely in touch conversation flowed easily. I had an email exchange with a Ukrainian colleague of the same vintage. We were known to share the odd vodka or two.

This means that for ten days I have been isolated and no doctor from the hospital has spoken with me. One doctor, a general practitioner did and prescribed me a hardcore bronchitis treatment. I have had a less than five-minute conversation with a nurse.

I have been told by my very ill and confused wife, that I am allowed to visit tomorrow. She is exhausted. So, I will drive 150km, see her for a few minutes and then drive back home.

It is a very strange way to live. The house is mega-quiet.

I have downloaded two journal articles from “The New England Journal of Medicine” and “BioMed Central Cancer” so I am now better informed. I have the average temporal parameters for the process.

The wife is in aplasia and going through the ringer. This may last until the weekend or more.  If she gets even more tired, it is a moot point whether a 300km round trip is worth it for a few minutes’ interaction.  If she is too tired to skype, I may not see her until the weekend.

We may or may not talk tonight depending on how knackered she is.

That seems to be about it, for now.

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