Mention yoga, and most people will probably conjure up an image of a lithe, leotard clad twentysomething, sitting cross-legged and saying omm a lot. That is until they meet Barbara Sellers...
It's hard to believe that the small, tanned blonde curled elegantly on her sofa is in her sixties, but Barbara is no ordinary woman. She's an experienced yoga teacher and is well known throughout the region. There's simply no one else quite like her. Barbara somehow gets east to merge with west and adds a big dollop of Sheffield. 'Yoga is my life but I like it to be enjoyable. I need to laugh, it helps to keep me balanced so I like to joke when I'm doing a class, or read something that I think will appeal.' And she tells stories, funny things that have happened to her, and somehow it all just fits together. 'It's not just a case of knowing the postures,' she tells me 'it's also very spiritual which makes it different from something like aerobics. I'm not talking about religion. Yoga teaches you to be a better person, to be compassionate, to be aware of one another. It takes you further than physical exercise. Doctor's surgeries are recommending yoga classes because they can do so much good. I think stress is possibly overplayed these days, but then maybe my yoga keeps me more balanced.'
Barbara took
up yoga back in 1978 when she suddenly developed rheumatoid arthritis. 'I couldn't
walk, the arthritis went right through my body, I couldn't straighten my fingers.
I wouldn't let them give me steroids so the hospital wanted nothing to do with
me. I've dealt with it myself. If I didn't do my yoga I wouldn't be able to
move. I believe in helping yourself.'
She uncurls one leg demurely as I look out and admire her Japanese style garden,
the water flowing through the plants. She designed it herself, and the house
and it's all so very peaceful. Then, somehow, we get onto her past, which has
something of a Catherine Cookson novel about it. 'I was born round here into
a working class family. Never had any money, went to All Saints School. At the
age of
twelve I was looking after my baby brother full time, as my mother was too ill. When I went back to school at fourteen they said I was too old, that I'd had too much responsibility and threw me out. So I went to night school, I got two shillings for every class I attended, I survived by going to four classes a week. I've always had to work. I could never live up Ecclesall,' she adds 'my friends are round here.'
One of the seven classes that Barbara runs (she's cut them down from fifteen a week) is at Roe Lane and has become so popular she's had to close it to newcomers. She's on the look out for a larger room locally, one with heating. 'You'll have to come back to the class,' she says, smiling. I promise I will as soon as she has room for me. I've missed them, and her.
'Did I tell you I did a one to one with Ruby Wax recently when she was at the
Lyceum?' I have to ask, have to but Barbara beats me to it. 'She's a very stressed
out person. Lovely, but I felt she was a lost soul.
I don't normally do one to one's but I agreed this time. After the session I
told her my principle of always giving the first session free. She couldn't
believe that I wasn't going to charge her, but I did say, "if you come
back to Sheffield and want some more it could cost you £1.75".'
I could've stayed for hours toasting my toes on her stories but she has a class to prepare for and I must steel myself to get wet again, and curse that I forgot my umbrella. As we say goodbye she gives me one of her warm knowing smiles and says 'take care' and the rain doesn't feel quite as cold for some inexplicable reason.
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