It hasn’t been a successful yoga week.
And tonight I am not so forgiving of myself.
YES, my life is full; YES, I have been damaged; YES, I no longer have the zest and exuberance of youth; BUT if I were really committed to a regular yoga/spiritual practise, I’d get up at 5am each morning when mind and body are fresh, because there are too many variables in the evening that I can use for self sabotage.
Tonight, after a physical working day with lots of lifting, I showered and fronted up to my mat.
Dog Pose, Uttanasana, a few gentle stretches.
I was surprised by the heaviness of my body and lack of energy.
Breath seemed shallow and insipid, prana weak.
Perhaps I could have changed my thoughts, refused to listen to the excuses, pepped myself up with motivational self talk, turned the situation around.
I’ll never know.
Instead I took the therapeutic Iyengar path (do what your body needs):
I start with a 20 breath Headstand, then moved into a twisted spinal Headstand.
20 breaths in Shoulderstand, Halasana, and Karna Pindasana.
These inversions are pure gold.
I then fell asleep on my mat.
Memories of tough, early morning ashtanga practices haunt me.
The yoga burned into my body and psyche, a transformational fire, a sacred and devotional practice performed in the quiet early hours on a pure, blank canvas.
Fast forward 6 years and I am now a bit lazy, a bit mediochre, drowning out pain and discomfort with the superficial buzz of daily activities. Seeking solace through disconnection.
I have been avoiding thoughts about realising my full human potential.
I have not been working on purifying my mind.
I have not been living with raw authenticity.
Owning up to this, a spark has ignited inside.
Tomorrow I will get up at 5.30am.
And step back onto my mat in the quiet early hours.