I must confess that in spite of my self-declared affinity toward Yoga, I often feel similarly about my actual asana practice as one might feel around a trip to the dentist: you know it’s good for you, you’re really glad you went, but it’s rather uncomfortable while you’re there.
The feelings of discomfort and discontent I have are very much a result of my internal running commentary. It goes something like this:
Gosh, I’m stiff and sore. I’m not flexible at all. My posture is horrendous. My alignment is off. Am I doing this right? I did this pose much better last week. That person is so much stronger, better, more fit! They even look like they just LOVE doing 27 Sun Salutations; why don’t I love this? Aren’t I supposed to be enjoying this?! I’m supposed to feel peaceful and relaxed and energetic. I feel lethargic and heavy; this room is too hot/cold/stuffy/dark/bright. Hey, I wonder what color socks I’ll wear tomorrow…
…and from there everything derails. Before I know it, seemingly after way too long, I am in Savasana, judging my inability to be still, judging my lack of presence during the last 60 minutes, judging my lack of enjoyment, feeling hurt by my judgments and then, naturally, judging that. Still, even after the most difficult practice, I walk away feeling that I’ve done the right thing in going and struggling through, that there are benefits I will experience later on or next time—and that keeps me coming back for more.
Tonight I returned to a class setting for the first time in a couple of months. I knew going into it that I am tired today after not sleeping well for the last couple of nights. I thought I might be more achy and sore than usual due to this, perhaps even off-balance. I thought I might have a harder time regulating my breath and body temperature than usual given that I’ve been so tired. But as class began, and my instructor shared her opening thoughts about every practice being different, about letting go of the judgments, competition, comparisons, etc., I decided to come up with one word that would bring me back to the moment, to the room, to my mat, to my practice.
I, of course, chose a 4-letter word. There are a lot of them that pop up daily—both on and off the mat. Some are not so helpful:
Goal: Yup, that’s a 4-letter word. I use it a lot, and often as soon as it’s out there, my resistance shows up. I’ve tried more and more to replace it with the word intention.
Done: as in, I’m done learning, growing, struggling, changing, etc. More and more, I’ve tried to see things less as linearly progressive with a focused end-result, and rather just see the process and movement in and of itself as an accomplishment. Life is like riding a bicycle; you only fall if you stop pedaling.
Fail: What exactly does this even mean? How can we measure failure anyway? So things didn’t occur within an expected time frame or within an expected manner; it ain’t over till the cows come home, and I just built me a big ol’ electric fence. No cows coming home here! Mooooo---bzt!*
*No bovines were harmed in the making of this blog post*
It is in that spirit that I brought a new 4-letter word to the mat tonight and I will continue to turn to it in moments of need: the word is
This: as in, this moment, this class, this pose. This sensation—be it pleasant or unpleasant (and let me tell you, any side poses involving a stretch to my hip flexors—still VERY unpleasant. This breath, this room, this mat—because all that matters right now, in this moment, is this moment.
And I absolutely loved my Yoga class tonight—both during and afterward. I experienced moments that were uncomfortable for whatever reason, but as soon as my internal running commentary began, so did the calm, compassionate voice within that reminded me of this. I noticed my breath grow deeper and more even. I noticed my ability to balance a bit better with each Warrior III or Airplane Pose. I noticed my tendency to sink deeper into each Downward Facing Dog. And when it came time to release and relax into Savasana, this was not just peaceful, still and rejuvenating; it was bliss.
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