Saturday, November 5, 2011

we were on a break.

It took about one minute. All of one minute for me to realize what an idiot I'd been.

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!

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