Tools Of The Trade

So. The website’s up and humming. Studios are being contacted and listed. Events are being posted. I’ve left a proper grown up message on my phone and I’m hoping to eventually master the art of a spreadsheet.

It’s one of those times in life when you’re super busy-in-a-good-way and its all a bit exciting. There was even a day last week when I forgot to eat lunch. (Lunch! I forgot a whole meal! I really thought that was an urban myth.)

I’ve got lists and more lists, and files within files. Sleep, who has never been a close friend of mine, has been ever more elusive and to save any overthinking I’ve just been wearing the same outfit daily. Nice.

Still, I’ve dutifully packed my yoga bag every night, set the alarm and made it to the studio each morning because we all know that the yoga mat is our refuge. And I believe that. I do.

Except… lately I’ve been practicing like it’s my job. Like it’s something to be ticked off one of those never-ending lists. I’ve taken deep breaths. I’ve stretched and twisted. I’ve moved my shoulders way, way down from my ears. I’ve followed the words of my teachers and done what I’m told.

And then I’ve raced out of that studio like there was never that moment in Dancers Pose where I reached a smidgeon further than I’ve ever reached before, or when something opened up enough in Wheel to feel so sweet I couldn’t stop smiling. I’m forgetting to take all that goodness with me and I miss it.

It wasn’t until last night that I had an epiphany of sorts. I was putting my mat in the car and thought, apart from myself, that’s all I need to practice yoga. My mat. It’s the perfect size. It holds all of me (if it’s a busy class it can also fit part of my neighbour) AND there’s enough room for me to bring any other head stuff that actually has no business being there but came along anyway. My mat is polite enough to be a good host yet focussed enough to ignore what isn’t necessary.

Me and my mat. (My mat and me. We’re like a bad country song.) It’s somewhat smelly and has deep groves from where I press my hands but it makes it so easy for me to show up. And I’m very grateful.

So. No more beating myself up because I wasn’t entirely present or I wasn’t floating through the day on a cloud of bliss. It’s all good, really. I practice along with all the other people who turn up and someone might just have the best class ever (yay!) and some of us should just remember to thank themselves for even getting there. Sometimes that’s more than enough.

– Jane

©The Yoga Connection