As a yoga teacher and yoga practitioner, I found out early on that I attribute some of my ease with yoga-asana to having much of my father's physicality. Maybe not the height, my sister has that. But the arms that are longer than the torso, the less bulk on a lankier frame, the ample hands, and great feet. Not to mention the overall flexibility with the right amount of strength.
My father was a competing gymnast in high school - the tallest at 6'. I also was a fit, springy kid and immediately had interest in all things active, including at the top of the list, gymnastics. Not in the competing way, but in the YMCA way, and the front yard way. Round off back handsprings were my thing. I'd say he taught me a back handspring, but I'd admittedly say I wasn't so trusting that he wouldn't pull his hand away from spotting me. But it got me through. I used to look through the few pages of his photos and clippings. We would, as many families did in the 70s, watch the Olympics or Wide World of Sports for the gymnastics segments.
When I opened the NJ Yoga Studio, I had wished my father lived much closer - a romantic notion that I could teach him yoga. I knew he'd be excellent at asana.
The funnier part of my father being anything remotely yogic, is the deep reddish suntan he got naturally. Again, my sister has this natural tendency toward dark. But my father almost always had a beard, had longer dark hair, slim frame, and when the summertime came, he could be mistaken for being Indian (or maybe middle eastern or Mediterranean), especially as he aged. Just funny.
For now, I often practice yoga and give thanks for 'his arms' and such, but on a deeper level, there is thanks for his calm and patience, that only a yogi can know.
