Missy and Mama
I was settling into Down Dog when Missy,
my yoga teacher, said “Let’s all choose to be happy today. No one can make you happy. Only you can choose to be happy, right Mama?”
I had heard Missy call out to “Mama” in class before, but I didn’t know who she
was referring to. Was it her
mother? Someone else?
That day I found out. It was in response
to “Right, Mama?” that I heard a quiet “Yes, Honey” from the back of the room.
As we changed poses, I quickly turned my head towards the soft voice and
spotted a petite, blond woman. She had a broad smile just like Missy’s, and
stood in a perfectly balanced Crescent Lunge. Ahhh, that must be Missy’s mother.
After yoga class, I walked over to her
and introduced myself. “So, Mama must have a name,” I prompted.
“Yes, I’m Pam.” Her reply came with the
same warm and open expression that I was accustomed to seeing on my yoga
teacher’s face.
“How nice that you come to your
daughter’s classes,” I commented.
I wasn’t prepared for Pam’s very serious
response. Her blue eyes locked with mine and she said, “Coming to Missy’s yoga
class has changed my life.”
Just then, Missy came over to us and wrapped
her arms around her mother’s shoulders. Pam circled her arm around Missy’s
waist and kissed her on the cheek. As they turned to face me, smiling and still
joined together, I thought of my own daughter, Jenna, and experienced a
maternal longing for one of her hugs.
“Awww…” I gushed in the presence
of Missy and Mama’s unconcealed affection.
I felt a connection with these two women
and saw immediate parallels between them, and me and my daughter: Both mother-daughter pairs practiced yoga and
enjoyed a special, loving relationship. Over time, I formed a casual friendship
with them and wanted to learn more about Pam’s comment – about how attending
Missy’s yoga classes had changed her life. I also found out that Missy was a
single mother who moved from California Florida
I felt a bit awkward inviting Missy and
Pam to my home. I told them that I was a writer, and asked if they would tell
me their story so that I could write about it. Here I was, a near-stranger,
asking them to chronicle their lives over salad and poached chicken. But they
quickly put me at ease. Pam exclaimed, “I would love to have the opportunity to
kvell about Missy!” I immediately recognized the Yiddish word
that means “to beam with pride”; being a Jewish mother myself, I was prone to kvelling over my own children’s
achievements. Similarly, Missy appreciated the invitation and was eager to describe
the events, both tragic and triumphant, that led her to becoming a yoga
practitioner and teacher.
A few weeks later, I picked up Jenna at
the airport and the following morning we went to Missy’s yoga class together.
As I moved through the familiar vinyasa poses in unison with my daughter, I
felt a deep connection with her. It was
as if we were moving together in a choreographed dance of serenity.
Yoga is supposed to be all about you and
your mat; you should be present, in tune with your body and focused on your own
practice and not that of others. But this morning I cheated: I couldn’t help myself from taking furtive
peeks at Jenna’s lithe body and beautiful profile as she followed Missy’s
directions, flowing from one pose to another. I was also proud that I had built
the strength and flexibility to match the moves of my athletic daughter.
After class, I introduced Missy and Pam
to Jenna. They followed me back to my
house and once inside, I led them to the screened porch and brought food and
drinks out from the kitchen.
“So, where should we start?” Missy asked, as she poured dressing over her
salad. I suggested that she begin by telling us about her childhood interests
and how they might have influenced her career choices later in life.
“I was a dancer,” Missy said. “I started
ballet when I was three years old, and dancing was my thing. It was my identity.” She began performing
with a professional ballet company at the age of seven but at twelve, announced
to her teacher and parents that she was going to stop dancing.
“I wanted to be more like a normal kid,”
Missy explained.
Pam reflected on that time period:
“Missy was getting all these accolades for her dancing, and her teacher told me
I was a terrible mother for allowing her to quit. She said I was doing Missy a disservice
because she was too young to know what she wanted.”
But Pam trusted Missy’s decision to
diverge from the path that defined her youth, and her support must have meant a
lot to Missy at the time. It certainly portended the supportive relationship of
this mother-daughter pair for years to come.
I am intrigued by people who become
passionate about the arts early in life, like the Russian boy, Ethan, on The
Jay Leno Show, who perfectly mimicked Mozart and Beethoven on his keyboard at
the age of six. Or my step-daughter, Sara, an artist, who saw the objects of
life through Impressionist eyes at a very young age. Or Missy, whose ballet
teacher noticed something special in her dancing at age three.
Like most mothers, I hoped that Jenna
would find a sport or hobby that she would enjoy and excel in. I believed that
this would build her confidence, a characteristic so elusive during adolescence.
While over the years Jenna dabbled in many things, she wasn’t passionate about
any of them. She enjoyed each for a short period of time and then moved onto
something else -- much like me, who still cycles through hobbies every three
years.
Missy asked me to pass her the
basket of flatbread, and then continued. “We were an open, communicative family,”
she explained. “I took after my mom, who is a psychologist, in that I was
interested in understanding and talking about my feelings. I was even in
therapy a couple of times as a kid. Now, I talk about feelings and emotions in
class all the time; it’s funny how things come around.”
After
graduating college with a degree in psychology and completing a one-year
internship in Washington D.C., Missy moved to New York City. At the age of 22,
she entered the world of business, working first for an advertising agency and
then for a consulting firm.
“I had a heavy-duty sales career. I wore suits
and sold to high-powered litigators in the top law firms. I was Type A,
intense, working hard, making big bucks, going to the Hamptons New York
I learned later that Missy was “Melissa”
during these years; she adopted her more playful nickname later as a yoga
teacher.
Missy’s description of her family
dynamics and interest in psychology helped explain why I was so drawn to her. I
related to her approachable style and found her spiritual comments during class
insightful. She helped me link my asana postures to positive thoughts about
loving oneself, not judging others, and choosing to be happy.
Missy continued to talk about her “Melissa
years” in New York. She married her now ex-husband
at 29 and quit her stressful job to take some time off. “I got married for all the wrong reasons,”
Missy acknowledged. “I married Jeff out of fear because I was almost 30 and
wasn’t confident enough to be on my own and attract the kind of man who would
be the love of my life. Jeff was hot and
smart and a great catch. He had
potential and I thought I could change him. That was a mistake.”
At this point, Missy turned to face
Jenna and asked her age. With the wisdom of someone who has learned the hard
way, Missy advised “Be who you are, Jenna.
Get to know yourself and love yourself before you marry.” Jenna glanced
at me and smiled; she’d heard that before.
I married her dad, my college sweetheart, too young and divorced ten
years later.
While
I was not a directive parent, there is one piece of unwavering advice I gave
Jenna beginning in her teen years. In
fact, I repeated it so many times that when I began with “Don’t marry until…,”
Jenna finished the statement for me with a dramatic eye-roll and sing-song
delivery: “…you’re in your late 20’s, early 30’s.” I don’t believe now that there is a
particular right age to marry, but rather a right state of mind. Jenna is far
more independent and self-aware than I was at the same age, the age I married
her father.
Less than a year after they married,
Missy and Jeff moved to Los Angeles so Jeff could pursue a career in television
writing. This was a dark period for Missy as she felt displaced and lost
without work.
She recalls, “I just sat around. I
didn’t know what to do with myself so I began eating, baking, watching the Food
Network, and getting fat.”
After three years of marriage, Missy
sums up the situation: “I was bored and unhappy. My marriage wasn’t great, but I still loved
Jeff so we decided to have a baby.”
Until this point in the conversation, Missy spoke
openly and articulately. Her story flowed easily. But the next statement came
out clipped and unemotional.
“After my son Noah was born, I decided
to leave my husband and move to Florida.”
There was silence as Jenna and I
absorbed Missy’s abrupt and shocking declaration.
“Missy, why?” I asked softly.
She took a long sip of iced tea, paused,
and then explained that after her son was born, her husband retreated. “He thought he was ready, but he wasn’t.
After Noah was born, he checked out.”
Knowing that this was difficult for
Missy to talk about, Pam jumped in to explain what happened in the weeks after
Noah’s birth. When Pam came to California to help with the baby, Jeff moved
into the guest room and Pam slept in the baby’s room.
“Jeff just wasn’t there for Missy. So,
in the middle of the night, I would bring Noah into Missy’s room and watch her
breast-feed this tiny baby. It was an incredibly bonding experience for Missy
and me.”
Missy gazed at her mother and said
softly, “She’s always been there for me.”
Pam was upset by Jeff’s detachment following
Noah’s birth and reluctantly left to return to her home in Naples, Florida.
When Missy called her mother three weeks later saying that she didn’t think her
marriage was going to work, Pam suggested she come to Naples with the baby.
“Missy was scared, but I knew in my
heart the marriage wasn’t right. My husband and I were in agreement; we knew
she needed to come home.”
I understand the powerful feeling of
safety provided by a strong and loving mother because, like Missy, I returned
home to heal as a young adult. After being
miserable for some time in an unbearable first job, I had a similar
conversation with my mother. She urged me to quit and come home where I could
recover and look for another position. How relieved I felt returning home! My
mom’s sound advice and the familiar walls of my bedroom restored my confidence,
and a few months later, I joined another company where I flourished.
Missy shifted her long, wavy hair back
over her shoulders and reached for the bowl for a second helping. “So I left my
ex-husband and traveled to Florida with my new baby to live with my parents.”
She recalled with sorrow, “My life was upside down.”
After two months, Missy rented a place
of her own, joined a gym, and began going to yoga classes. While she had taken a few Bikram classes in
New York and a prenatal yoga series in California, Missy had never been
consistent or serious about yoga until this point.
“I was going to yoga and crying my eyes
out, and I started to see how yoga was helping me heal,” Missy said.
She later began taking classes at a Baron
Baptiste-inspired yoga studio where the classes were smaller. “I’m not sure how it happened but something
ignited within me and I wanted to immerse myself in learning more about
yoga.”
Missy became dedicated to yoga, waking
up at 5:30 to practice before work. Pam
cared for Noah while Missy tried to get herself back on her feet in a new sales
job. “I lost all my weight and started to feel good about myself again. It
truly was a transformation,” Missy said.
Encouraged
by her yoga teacher, Missy went to a week-long intensive teacher training
program taught by Baptiste. “I didn’t
know if I’d ever teach yoga, but I figured the training would be a great
learning experience regardless. It turned out to be life-changing.”
Soon after registering for the teacher
training, Missy was laid off from her job. She smiled and said, “This was the
universe saying to me ‘You have to teach yoga.’ My inner voice was saying, ‘You
need to share this with people and help them realize they can grow and change
and better themselves.’”
But Missy struggled with the notion of
becoming a yoga teacher. She was proud
of being an educated professional and worried about what people would think of
her if she taught yoga.
“People have misperceptions about yoga
teachers. They think they are not intelligent or are just fitness people or
flat-out flaky,” she said with a smile. Missy also worried about her prospects
if teaching yoga didn’t work out. How
would she explain the gap on her resume?
After teacher training, Missy vacillated
for a month before deciding to push away her fears and follow the path she felt
was right. Soon after making the decision to teach, she began “selling” her
teaching credentials and passion for yoga, and getting jobs in fitness centers
and yoga studios.
Someone’s
profession often tells us about their education, intellect, level of ambition
and wealth. However, I don’t think these assumptions are so clear anymore. More well-educated young people are choosing
professions based on the value they will bring to the world rather than the
money they will accumulate. Missy chose teaching yoga to share with others a
means to be happy and feel empowered. “I want people to leave my class lighter,
happier, uplifted.”
I think that’s a noble intention.
Likewise, Jenna has chosen a righteous
profession. She turned to non-profit organizations after graduating college
with a business degree and now works for Goodwill Industries International in
resource development, which she finds very fulfilling. I admire these two young
women for putting aside any concerns about what others might think and taking
on careers with true meaning.
As Missy built her new career, Pam
continued to support her daughter, enabling this important life transition. At the same time, Pam observed her daughter’s
transformation as she deepened her yoga practice; Missy began to exude health,
happiness, and hopefulness. Intrigued, Pam decided to participate in Missy’s
yoga classes.
She wasn’t athletic and had never worked
out, so she found yoga extremely difficult in the beginning. “I had a tough
time with even the easy poses like Cat-Cow; I was just that uncoordinated,” Pam
recalled. “I didn’t like yoga and wanted to quit. But I didn’t, because I
wanted to be there for Missy.”
While Pam’s initial purpose for
attending Missy’s class was to support her daughter, over time she realized
that she was coming to yoga class not for Missy, but for herself. “The tables were turned and now, Missy was helping
me in my own transformation,” she said.
Pam attributes her ability to handle
stress and life’s challenges to her yoga practice. “The warrior poses taught me to approach life
differently. My parents are elderly and
I am a care-taker, which is very difficult.
Yoga taught me to have a lot of fortitude. It has been wonderful for me.”
She also attributes a new-found sense of
confidence to her yoga practice. She
maintains that she is more assertive and accepting of herself. “Like when we’re on the mat, I figure if we
do the best we can with a kind and loving heart, we’re doing okay.”
Pam’s yoga practice has also had a
profound impact on her health. After a serious auto accident over 15 years ago,
Pam had surgery to have a titanium plate inserted in her neck, which put
pressure on her spinal discs. She went
to physical therapy and pain management clinics, but it didn’t alleviate her
pain and stiffness. Pam believes it was
her yoga practice that eventually restored her health.
She said happily, “I don’t see pain
management doctors. I don’t even check
in with a neurologist anymore. I absolutely think it was the yoga, the
stretching, that helped release the nerve pressure and gave me back range of
motion.”
Missy politely interrupted and told us
she needed to leave shortly to go to a client’s house for a private yoga
session. After spending two hours together, the four of us felt connected in so
many ways. Missy and Jenna both know
without a doubt that their mothers will be there to support and love them no
matter what. Pam and I are both learning new ways of thinking and living from
our wise daughters. And yoga has connected and restored us all.
We hugged and took pictures so we would
remember this special day. Jenna and I
waved good-bye as Missy and Pam walked out towards their cars. I called,
smiling, “I’ll see you at yoga on Thursday.”
