"SEX TAPES AND CHRISTMAS LIGHTS"

“SEX TAPES AND CHRISTMAS LIGHTS”

 Before the Kardashian sisters oozed their way into the American spotlight, the gold standard for dark-haired, doe-eyed beauty was set by the Evans girls of Fry Street in Tyler, Texas: Shelley, Kelley, and Holley. If you were a male born between 1955 and 1972, you more than likely had a serious jones for one or more of the Evans girls.

            To my knowledge, the Evans girls still hold the southern regional record for Cut-Off Levi Wearing, Sister Division. They babysat, waterskied, went to sock hops, raised money for charity by doing car washes, dated quarterbacks and pitchers, and learned hand to hand combat in movie theaters and parked cars.

            And they had the absolute, ultimate, greatest Christmas light show. Ever.

            As in the entire history of Ever. It was massive display of lights visible from space long before Google Earth. It was the capstone of Christmas light viewing, which in Tyler, Texas is rightly considered an art form.

            And not one of the Evans girls earned their reputation by doing a below average homemade sex tape with a third-rate rapper, whose real claim to fame was being the brother of a second -rate pop singer. (When Aretha Franklin or Alicia Keys tells me Brandy is an R and B singer, then I’ll take it under advisement.)

            Unlike Kris Kardashian Jenner, whose own claim to fame was being divorced from one of O.J.’s lawyers, Maxine Evans is one mother who would have been heard on the subject of a sex tape and I can all but guarantee the phrases “not one of my daughters” and “take her over my knee” would have been deployed early in the conversation. And I can’t even begin to conceive of the medieval shit Everett Evans – a bruiser of a guy seemingly built to be the father of three pretty girls- would’ve come up with in this situation.

But we live in a world of “brands” and not dignity, a world where a mother would not only countenance her daughter’s homemade sex tape but use it as a stepping stone to pimp out the balance of her clan.

The sad thing about it all is that it wasn’t even Kris Jenner’s idea in the first place. The publicity arc of homemade sex-tape gets leaked/beautiful girl becomes famous for being famous/ starts perfume line/gets appearance fees for showing-up/has reality show/dates a series of rich guys had already been charted by another genius, Paris Hilton.

Just one look at Bruce Jenner‘s face should tell you everything you need to know about Kris Jenner in the first place.

What does all this have to do with yoga?

Nothing. And everything.

You see, my dear old friend Holley Evans is among my small but deeply disturbed readership. She had lost a leg thirty-four years ago in a boating accident.

After my last installment in which I implored everyone to attempt a yoga pose at home, I got a message from Holley which assured me that my wise-ass old friend had not changed much over the years.

She asked simply: Should I try it leg on or leg off?

I could actually see the smirk on her face and the evil twinkle in her eye when I read it.

I replied that she was still one of my favorite smart -alecks and that she had found her inner yogi. I may not have been kidding.

In typical Evans Girl fashion, she didn’t ask if, she asked how.

The essence of a yoga practice is having the dignity and courage to accept who we are and to modify or adjust our true selves to achieve any pose. It is only from a fearless physical inventory that we are able to achieve the poses we are attempting.

Legs are too short, arms are too long, and shoulders are too wide for certain poses, forcing us to modify and adjust our stances with our feet, the position of our hands or the alignment of our head, hips, shoulders, or arms. Shoulders do not rotate enough, hips are too open, and -wait for it- some people are too limber.

A month or so ago, I was next to this clearly advanced yogi who had to be constantly adjusted in order to reach the full expression of poses because she suffered from what the swami calls a “bendy” back, i.e., she is too flexible and can in fact get injured just trying to get any stretch at all. Throughout the class, she was adjusted and modified in order to get some stretch and not injure herself.

For a man quite proud to simply touch his toes with straight legs, this is not exactly my problem.

Throughout most of my classes, I mostly hear but do not see my fellow yogis, but this day I could sense an advanced practice next to me: the steady flow of breath, the smoothness of transitions within postures and from one posture to the next, the stillness and strength in the holding of poses, and the lightness of movement that comes from strong, engaged muscles and a properly focused mind.

The irony came at the end of class when she was putting on her hoodie.

She had one hand.

I was truly disappointed that I had missed seeing her practice because I missed the modifications necessary for her to do poses. I am far from a formal student of yoga but I am a true fan of the practice and this would have been a treat, watching her smoothly transition through the advanced stages of poses with one arm. 

Like watching Kevin Durant win a three-point shooting contest- with one arm.

Later, it struck me that Holley and this woman actually have a certain advantage in yoga as they are exceedingly cognizant of their own unique physicality and have spent a lifetime adjusting and modifying as a matter of course.

So when I asked my teacher, Jennifer Hensley (periodically referred to herein as simply The Swami), about how one would do a lunge with one leg, I should not have even been mildly surprised when she immediately asked about the nature of Holley’s prosthetic, its range of motion and ability to rotate and then proffered the solutions of using a chair or a bolster to modify entry into or holding the poses.

It took about thirty seconds, start to finish. Within three more minutes, she provided a variety of adjustments and modifications which could be used as Holley’s practice progressed further.

(I had forgotten that Jennifer and Lotus Yoga had begun a yoga class for veterans under the auspices of the Wounded Warrior project and as such is particularly attuned to dealing with adjustments and modifications of this sort. Interesting, Holley’s son is a soldier recently returned from Iraq safe and sound.)

Like the rest of my journey, I was amazed at the simplicity and practicality of it all.

But it was more than that.

Holley’s unique physicality underscores all our uniqueness.

Perhaps for the first time in my pilgrimage, I came to actually accept there is no perfect pose for the cover of a yoga magazine, those Kardashian moments of air-brushed, beatific-faced fraudulence which hide more than they reveal.

A perfect yoga pose is what is perfect for our own bodies at that moment in time and nothing more. Everyone achieves their depth in a pose in due time, aided by teachers, modifications, adjustments, props, patience, discipline and a honest appraisal of our own weaknesses and strengths.

This was yet another moment when my practice reached across time and space, harmonizing my past with my present. I am proud of my old friend, my teacher and myself, where I came from, where I am and where I hope to go.

One last thing. I think yoga magazines should show people falling more.

It may be the only way I’ll ever make a cover.

© Thomas C. Barron 2014