If there is anything I have learned from a 15 year yoga practice is to wait. Just wait. Wait and something will change. Maybe you are prepared for the result. Maybe not.
In my last post, I spoke about a change that was going on, a reawakening of sorts. That was the honeymoon phase of what has proved to be a long, drawn out, uncertain time. When I would think about it I would ask myself "Well? What the hell are you waiting on? Get changed and move on already" But if life were that simple I would be thinner and have a better garden.
All in due time, self.
The moments that catch you unawares seem to be the most poignant. For some back story, G Dub and I left our church congregation which isolated us from many that we had high emotional attachment to but gave us the space to concentrate on us and our immediate family. We still can't describe why we needed that as a church family should hold you together, support you. But we have been visiting another congregation, in the meantime, to keep us and the Little Monsters within the faith and not lose sight of this journey. But I noticed I have been holding back.
This church has music, which is a new component of our worship. If anyone knows me, music can make me crazy, like when I listen to Metallica while driving; it makes me think nostalgically of past loves or funerals. Or most importantly, music will drive me to tears. And tears are not something that I share easily or, God forbid, someone know that I have them. I have been moved to hidden tears for weeks. I can't let them fall for fear that they may never stop. I can't respond to an alter call for fear that they may never stop. I can't speak about it for fear they may never stop.
Looking into the face of an emotional breakdown and letting go of attachments is proving to be a little much for me. It's a loss of control over where I'm going. I can liken this to a hermit crab that grows too big for his shell and is in search of a bigger home to grow and develop. Letting go of a perfectly good shell only to occupy a space to which you have to fill with meaning and value is a hard concept. Maybe not for a hermit crab because I'm sure he feels better but it is for me. So there is why I wait. Where is my bigger shell?
Going back to yoga. My body has changed since having the Little Monsters and I need yoga. It's not like when I started and I could just do whatever I wanted with my body and not worry about the mindfulness of my practice; no, I need it to keep me strong and now to bring acuity and strength to my mind. I'm not there to socialize. I have to talk enough. I'm not there to meet people. I know enough already. I'm not there for anyone other than this little body that I have been given. I walk in, do my yoga and leave. I leave happy. I leave recharged.
I have switched disciplines of yoga too. Gone are the days of precision with Iyengar. Give me a vinyasa that opens my heart, that doesn't matter if my pinky toe is pointed correctly, that lets me feel joy at just being able to show up. Because you know my Monsters will find a way to thwart the best laid plans. Like today - we were late and I missed the exit on the interstate so I missed the basic class. Today was my first real Ashtanga class. This was not coincidence.
I was in pain but not like I thought. I was more open than I thought. I was sweating more than I thought. And in Savasana the tears that rolled into my ears told me that all was well.
And the tears stopped just like I thought.