When I read the recent Movember report on the state of men’s health in the United States, a lot of the facts provided a serious reality check. For instance, there were more than twice as many suicides as homicides among men. And the suicide rate among men was almost four times higher than among women.
The idea that men keep so much pain to themselves feels so sad. Those statistics were heartbreaking, but they also reminded me that change is possible. We just need ways to reconnect with ourselves and with others.
My own path started almost by accident. In 2012, I walked past the yoga studio in Excelsior. My wife and I both worked from home and were looking for something to do together after we grew tired of our afternoon tennis games.
The next day, we showed up for our first yoga class. Like many men, I would not have gone without my wife. I only felt confident enough to start practicing yoga because she agreed to come with me.
When we filled out the registration forms at the yoga studio, one question made me pause:
Why are you interested in yoga?
- Exercise
- Reduce stress
- Improve concentration
- Greater sense of well-being and calm
- Spiritual development
Huh? Up until this point, I understood yoga as a form of exercise that my wife and I could do together, like running, tennis, or lifting weights. Somewhat defiantly, I checked the “Exercise” box. Anything about calm or spiritual development didn’t make sense.
The first yoga class turned out to be different from what I expected. We learned about breath and stillness. We paused between poses. We sat quietly at the end. I had not done that in a long time. My wife and I went out for coffee afterward to talk about “what just happened.”
We were hooked, and we went back every day for the next eight days. For the next few years, we had a dedicated yoga practice and sometimes went together five or six times a week. It took years before I got up the courage to go to a yoga class by myself, and I ended up getting more into yoga than she did.
Still, for the first five years, I thought of yoga as “exercise.” During meditation, I often planned my day or ran through my to-do list. I rolled my eyes at teachers who opened with a dharma talk. A restorative class felt like a waste of time.
Looking back, I don’t think I was closed-minded. I just didn’t know what I didn’t know. I weighed 40 lbs more than I do now, and I thought strength meant pushing harder. What I’ve learned through yoga is that strength can also mean slowing down, noticing what’s happening inside, and giving yourself a chance to breathe.
Men’s mental health matters. It’s not about fixing ourselves. It’s about giving ourselves space to be human. To rest. To connect. To stop holding everything in.
Reflecting back on that question I answered before my first yoga class, yoga offers me all of those benefits. I got exercise I was seeking. The other benefits — such as reduced stress, improved concentration, a greater sense of well-being and calm, and spiritual development — came later and helped to sustain my practice.
This Movember, I’ll be sporting my much-greyer mustache and sharing reflections about how yoga and community can support men’s health in real and practical ways. If you know someone (of any gender or gender identity) who might need that kind of space, invite them to class.
Join us this week. A quiet hour on the mat can be a good place to start.
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