Yoga confessions

I fall over in handstand.

I try, I miss, I get afraid, I fall. I am not one of those effortless inversion mamas, deftly floating from pose to pose. I admire those practitioners, marvel at their grace. I’ve been afraid of handstand since I fell out of it over four years ago.

I have other sins.

I am not consistent in my practice. I do not arrive every day on my mat at 6 AM. I arrive late, get flustered, leave early to get to meeting. My mornings are derailed by the previous evening’s glass of wine, a netflix binge, or the simple deep heart angst of an existential day. I get consumed in work, become anxious, forget to meditate, and catch myself texting when I should be listening.

I beat myself up, wonder what the point is, then am suddenly struck by the beauty of the autumn leaves. And I am reminded for a moment – a glimpse that is breathtakingly beautiful – that I am alive.

I breathe, remember myself, and return to practice.

And fall over in handstand.

But today in practice, I realized that the point isn’t actually to do handstand.

The point is simply to try. To show up.

Regardless of the wine, the netflix binge, the boyfriend fight, or the existential crisis. Show up anyway. Or in fact, because of the wine, the netflix binge, the boyfriend fight….to return. To come back. To breathe. To feel. To try to do handstand, again. To fall. To try. And to return the next day.

The point of our yoga isn’t achievement, but our there-ness. Our showing-up-ness. To remember, just for a moment, that we have a space inside us that is beyond distraction. Beyond success or failure.

A space of goodness that simply is.

And we are enough.

Photo credit.

The invitation

One of the most powerful gifts that yoga provides to us is a safe space to feel richly and authentically.

How many of us get caught in days of politeness, with work or with friends, “Why yes, Amanda, while I agree your projections are viable, I respectfully disagree and hope that we can find a mutually beneficial solution.” We wear masks in order to seem civilized, squelch emotions so we don’t appear irrational, and protect others from our fears, anxieties, or reactions. “No, Brad, that’s fine, I’ll just wait until tomorrow to finish the report.”

All this is part of civilization. Until we’re all able to find joy and happiness in every moment, we generally have a cultural agreement to smooth the roughness or at least not scream in public. Observe a playground full of toddlers: witness the true internal human landscape. Many of us have become so good at hiding our feelings that we can no longer feel them completely – even when we’re alone.

Yoga is a place that can inspire peace, quiet and calm, certainly. But let us make these the results of the practice, rather than a pre-requisite for membership. Too often I feel as if we are shushed the moment we enter the space, strapping on a feigned bodhisattva placidity in order to participate in the group experience.

Lest the door has not been fully opened until now, allow me to usher you into this sanctuary and greet you: your whole self is welcome here. Your tears, your frustrations, your anxiety, your shadow, your pain.  Your joy, your irrationality, your deep feeling, your sensuality, and your vibrant, shimmering soul. Your startling stained glass majesty as well as the burnt edges of your hidden shame.

Your whole self is welcome here.  On your mat. To breathe, to feel, and to be.

To be human.

Pegan Adventures: Total Failure

It was day one and I was already befuddled.

First of all, allow me to confess that I drank a glass of wine. I know, I know! SO not paleo! But I just moved into a new apartment, and a glass of wine was the perfect toast to end my Ikea-bed-assembly-beg-my-neighbor-for-help-adventure. And – I’ll have you know: “Wine is often considered to be the closet thing we’ve got to paleo-friendly alcohol. There are various organic options – red wine in particular” (Ultimate Paleo Guide). So there you go.

Other than the wine, Day 1 had started so brightly.

Food on Day 1:

  • cashews
  • coffee with cream (my exception to the vegan guideline is the necessity of cream in my coffee)
  • tofu, greens, broccoli lunch
  • yam, spinach, cauliflower dinner

However, I then remembered that tofu wasn’t paleo. Whoops.

Um, and neither were any beans. Or legumes of any kind.  So no hummus. No soy. No rice. Oh dear. No nuts either.

Friends, maybe it was the Ikea bed, or maybe it was just the threat of no hummus, but I lost heart.

Confession, dear reader: I full failed the pegan.

Now, I may try it another time. But for now, I am content so simply recuperate from Thanksgiving and get back to my relatively sugar-free ways. Because post pumpkin pie, there’s some work there to be done.

Happy Thanksgiving lovelies.

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