We were on a break. I admit it was one-sided. It was all me deciding for this break, needing some space, some distance, some breathing room. I'd had a few unsettling experiences of observing myself going through the motions. Oh dear. Really? It all seemed so silly, laughable even. What was I doing? So the break: I made it happen.
At first the break was great. I felt more free, more un-scheduled, more spontaneous, more present. But as time went on, I started to question my choice. Was this new state better? Had I made a mistake? I kind of missed you, but I wasn't sure. It was confusing. I felt increasingly muddled, unclear.
And then yesterday, it hit me. In one minute.
One minute of sitting on my mat, guided by a skillful teacher (thank you, DownDogDave), and like a lightning bolt came the realization:
Yoga reminds me of who I really am.
Sitting there, everything came rushing back: my sense of my self as a creative being, not as an exhausted body; my delight in my own physical systems and strength, not just a bag of ailments. The foggy mirror got wiped clean, and suddenly I could see again. I could see Me. In one minute.
So even though I broke up with you for a while, Yoga, I realized yesterday that that was a delusion on my part. I mistakenly thought I could break up with you but that's impossible, because you're a part of me. I can no more separate myself from you than from my lungs or opposable thumbs or eyeballs. You're not outside me. You're an inexhaustible source of well-being that I carry around inside. You are me.
This realization makes me feel had -- or I could say, saddy, or any other combination of happy + sad. I'm happy because I feel good and content in a way I didn't for the weeks of the break, happy to be brought back to where I belong, solid in this knowing of who and what I am. And also, a little strangely sad, knowing that this, yoga, asana, practice, is something I don't have a choice about doing anymore. Maybe I never did, it's just that now I have full awareness that this is it. The yoga is my dharma. I can quail and fret and eat potato chips, but that doesn't change the fact: it's my dharma, so I just need to do it.
Do your dharma. Fuck the rest.
Everything else is noise. All the chatter, all the yoga gossip, all the names we call ourselves: noise. All that matters is practice, is devotion, is the act of coming back, again and again, in a simple attitude of gratitude for this body, for this life.
Of course, you, Yoga, you knew this all along. You let me break up with you so that I would figure this out on my own. You'd been telling me so for years, but clearly, I forgot and needed the wake-up.
Thank you. I get it now. I'm all in, more so than before, clear-headed, resolute and ready for class.
|Thank you, Jenn Graham!|