Michiko's America

The morning of Nov 5, I woke up at 6:30 am.  I walked down to the TV room and saw 5:30 am on the DVR display.  I felt lucky: daylight savings was over.  I made tea, read a book and fell asleep on the sofa until I heard the familiar sound of the coffee maker finishing off that last bit of water.  I felt blessed with an extra hour, but at the same time I was hit by a dreadful thought: night would fall too soon for me from now on.  I’ve never been clinically depressed, as far as I know, but my optimism wanes as the day gets shorter.

To overcome the heavy feeling that I have to carry during the winter, I’ve tried many things.  I took drawing lessons in Chicago in the evenings, and experienced the pain that minus forty degree air inflicted on me.  But it was worth it.  One evening after the class, I was so happy that I ran back to my apartment risking frostbite.  Trying to conceal my joy, I told my husband that the teacher had said that “I’m a natural.”  He burst into a laughter and couldn’t stop laughing.  I’d never seen him laugh that hard and long before or after that night.

I switched to watercolor painting once we came back to New Jersey.  It allowed me more artistic license, and I loved putting colors on the paper.  I was happy again, until the teacher said, “Oh, you have very nice paper!” I was not sure exactly what she meant by that.  Still I liked her class and kept at it until I had my first child.

Later, I started yoga on my own.  I recorded a TV yoga lesson, and tried to do that a couple of times a week.  It was probably good for my physical health, but I felt confined, as if I were in a prison cell dreaming about the day I could walk under the bright sunlight.  My cats, like prison guards, walked around me trying to figure out what I was up to.  So, I started tennis lessons when my second child was finally in kindergarten.  There, one of the ladies recruited me for her day-time tennis group.  I was a substitute for the group at first, and then became one of the regulars in the foursome.

I’ve tried many things to cheer myself up during the long winters, and made friends along the way.  Each activity has been somewhat successful to dispel my winter blues.  However, this gloomy feeling seems to have grown bigger in recent years, and it’s getting harder to shake off.  So, I’ve been in search of my next big thing.  I think I’ve found it: pliés.

I’ve been working out with “Classical Stretch” for several years.   The constant movements of the TV instructor Miranda Esmonde-White put me in a positive mood.   Although I only “see” her once a week, I keep at least ten programs on my DVR.  I was looking for a foot exercise for my son when I came across pliés.  I had never done it before, but it looked easy enough.  So, I started to mimic Miranda’s movements.  I opened my legs about sixty degrees, then bent my knees over my toes.  She casually mentioned another detail: align your thighs and feet as you move downwards.  I fell backwards.

I moved the coffee table out of the way, rewound the DVR to the point where plies started.  I heard this time what I’d missed before: raise your ankle and push it forward one leg at a time while you are at the lowest position.  My balance was so bad that I almost fell backwards again.  Her instructions continued: don’t put your butt backwards as you go down, and do keep your spine straight up.  I’d never felt the muscles in my butt and backside of my legs all at the same time.  That was a strange sensation.  I imagined a picture of my body’s anatomy, like the ones that you find in a doctor’s office.  I felt every muscle under my waist flaring up and turning red.

I was ready to quit right there and then, but I remembered her saying at the start that it was good for weight loss.  I doubted it, but decided to take her word for it.  Then, she added another move to the sequence: push your legs outwards with your hands when you are crouched down and have  one heal off the ground.  This was more than I could handle.  Sweat broke out.  I was seriously afraid that my muscles would tear.

It felt like never-ending torture, but the plié segment only lasted about four minutes.  I was miserable but liberated!  And I was happier than usual for the rest of the day.  Encouraged, I did the same exercise a few days later, and I felt afterward that my heart and feet moved me forward.  I’m now convinced that this will help fend off the dark winter magic.

Geography is culture, some say.  There is only a five-degree difference in latitude between Tokyo and New York.   But this small difference has a significant impact on my emotional health during the winter.  I’ve complained about it, despaired about it.  I’ve tried to lift my mood ever since I moved to New York in 1993.  Many things worked to some extent, but then plateaued.  I was getting sick of this vicious cycle.  It seemed there was no way out.

But after working out with pliés several times, I started to see my winter drag as a blessing in disguise.  If I hadn’t had these bouts of melancholy, would I have tried so many things?  Would I have met many of my friends who cheer me up and sometimes even make me more courageous?  I can’t say I like short and cold winter days, but I’m thankful for what they brought me.  Besides, I’ve survived this far, I can survive another winter.

The things I’ve done so far are a cumulative butterfly effect of my cultural stress.  I’ll enjoy working out with pliés this winter.  That is until I hit another plateau.  But it’ll be a long time coming, as my pliés don’t look anything like Miranda’s on the TV screen.