It felt like a graduation. I completed my 10-Day Yoga Challenge Monday yesterday, taking my fourth class with the Anusara-inspired teacher who told me and the other students that we were all ready to kick it up a notch. We’d all gotten comfortable with her repeated calls to isometrically draw our legs together and to hug in, she said, stroking our egos. So now we could reach for “organic” energy to reach out and beyond, to “party in the pose.”
I was happy to end my 10-day intensive on this upbeat note, especially after Day Nine’s call to “play.” Although I was feeling behind the eight ball from having woken late and frazzled for hearing my daughter start crying the minute the babysitter walked in the door, I took the hint to really charge my practice. I imagined a carnival of colors in my limbs, all enjoying the way they complemented each other.
Not enough time had passed before this 10 a.m. class for me to feel sore from the previous day’s afternoon class, though, today, the day after, I feel my core awakened. I am reminded that one needs to keep working to keep getting stronger.
I will save more reflections on my experiment as a whole for a few more days, when the dust has settled and I get through some other deadlines. However, my immediate reaction is generally of happiness that I not only attended ten yoga classes in ten days but also that I wrote about them all each day. That feels great. Go Jess!
What does not feel great is the sense that, while both yoga and writing practices are incredibly healing for me, it’s nearly impossible to do them both and also live in the real world of my house with two children and a husband, a lot of irons in the fire in terms of work (volunteer and otherwise), and a special diet.
Obviously I don’t have to drive 20-40 minutes to a studio every day. I can take elements of this experiment to a more practical and less extreme approach, like a solo practice in the basement or classes at a closer studio or on the weekend. And my baby will not be exclusively breastfed and separation-anxious forever.
Still, I admit that I had a hard time holding onto the vibe of the “party” as the (hot!) afternoon wore on, and the baby wouldn’t sleep, and I had to go out to attend the last meeting of my son’s Waldorf preschool/kindergarten, which he still doesn’t know he won’t be attending next year.
The vibrant colors that were tired of partying in my muscles later swirled in the more confined space of my heart through the night, getting me out of bed at 4 a.m. to create some semblance of order by sorting napkins and paying my credit card bill.
I hope I can keep cultivating the voices of my teachers during my more challenging times, which I expect to abound during long summer days with a child out of school and another about to walk.
I hope to play, shine, radiate and all that good stuff, even when I fear too much indulgence in “partying” is going to come with a hangover of dirty dishes, unpaid bills, and piles of laundry.
How do you literally find the time to meet your own needs and keep things moving along at home without making uncomfortable compromises?
Other posts in this series:
Day Ten: “Party in the pose”