A yoga story

I don’t remember where we were during the practice, but somehow I got a bit off.  It wasn’t that I didn’t feel like I could do the particular pose, but I was a bit behind and got out of flow.  I wound up more aware of my internal dialog than usual and I was frustrated with myself for being out of sync.

Inside voice:  AAHH!  WHY DO EVEN BASIC THINGS HAVE TO BE HARD SOMETIMES? WHY IS EVERYTHING HARD?  NOT HARD, BUT A LOT.  WHY IS EVERYTHING A LOT??  IT’S ALL A LOT!  BEING A MOM IS A LOT.  WORKING FULL TIME IS A LOT! BEING A WIFE IS A LOT, IT’S SUPER GOOD BUT IT’S STILL A LOT! A LOT OF EMOTIONS AND FEELINGS AND CONVERSATIONS AND MORE  EMOTIONS . . MORE FEELINGS. . . MORE TIME PULLS.  GOD IT IS A LOT AND I’M TIRED OF EVERYTHING BEING A LOT!!!

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By this time, not only had I found myself in child’s pose, but the flow and the rest of the class had wound up there too, so the internal yelling settled and I got back into sync internally and also with class.

Backstory:  Since resuming my yoga journey and being more intentional about it, I’ve realized that I have a really hard time truly relaxing into savasana.  Even when I think I’m relaxed, my back is somewhat arched, my breathing tends to be shallow and my shoulders are often up. Like I’m coiled for action.

Today, I realized that was the case.  I asked God to show me what to do and the picture he gave me was a child in a father’s lap, but the child was yelling and crying and hitting the dad’s chest.  You know how toddlers sometimes get so tired they can’t do one more thing and they need rest desperately but they won’t let it happen?  They keep crying and they stop and almost sleep then start again.  Crying, thrashing, crying, thrashing.  My heart thought, “I don’t want to be that child” and then the picture shifted.  It was the child at the next stage — the stage I’m sure you’ve experienced with your children — of having gone through that and reaching the other side.  Tired body.  Tired spirit.  Maybe not completely at rest, but finally resting. Maybe even jerks and spasms of movement, but more or less at rest.

I’d love to say that my whole being was entirely melted into the floor by this point, but I was still aware of areas of tension.  But it was better.  My breathing was more fluid.  My back was softened into the mat instead of up off the ground.

I left, thankful for a God who loves me when I’m kicking and screaming and who is with me until I get to the other side.  And thankful for friends who journey through life with me.

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