i just arrived home from one of my first, teacher led yoga classes in over a year (possibly even two). i did one last week at the prompting of a friend - which felt great - and i didn't know how much i would need the push back to practice at the time.
i decided to invest in an unlimited pass - which would force my frugal mind and body to practice as many times as possible. and i'm not sure why i choose a hot yoga class as my first solo class on this journey, other than the class' scheduled time. Not my brightest move.
I spent hours before class (and the night before even) going over the number of ways in which i had failed myself as a practitioner of yoga. watching the time diligently so I wouldn't arrive late - as I know that is something I always am. [failure]. asking myself how I let myself go this long without pushing back into a regular practice when I knew how good it is for my head, heart, soul and body. [failure]. thinking about how far back in my practice my body has fallen - my loss of flexibility, and calm, my lack of control and peace. [failure].
and these thoughts of failure, of course, evolved into, and enveloped thoughts of my overall and ongoing failures as a person.
it's funny how our minds do that - collect all the areas of our minds where we have shoved feelings of inadequacy, and throw them in the spotlight once we give them permission. such that anytime we begin to reflect on specific failures or fears, we suddenly become overwhelmed with every feeling of failure. every fear. every misspoken word that we'd love to take back, or every moment we didn't speak. lost time to unimportant things, and time we didn't spend where it was needed.
for me, it's impossible to navigate as well. you're not working hard enough at work (or) you work too hard and need a better work life balance. you're not a good enough friend (or) stop being such a needy friend. you shop too much (or) you don't have the right clothes. you should work out more (or) stop focusing so much on working out. you should eat better (or) be careful how carefully you eat. you should have more fun (or) you should take things more seriously. you should be healed already (or) stop pushing yourself or you'll never heal. a never ending cycle of contradictory complaints in the mind - without the need for anyone else to share in the criticism.
halfway through the class I told myself I should stand up, and walk out. my poses were off. my breathing was shallow and uncontrolled. thoughts running constantly through my head. the man next to me - clearly a consistent yoga practitioner - moved slowly through all of this poses and showed control in every position, every body part, every breath. my comparison to him, to everyone in the class, to the teacher and to my former self, robbed me of the peace of the class.
and then this funny thing happened. the teacher read a quote - the same quote she opened class with, but this time she repeated it while we held a pose ('torture pose', i'm sure i remember it being called) for multiple breaths.
"Does the sun ask itself, "Am I good? Am I worthwhile? Is there enough of me?" No, it burns and it shines. Does the sun ask itself, "What does the moon think of me? How does Mars feel about me today?" No it burns, it shines. Does the sun ask itself, "Am I as big as other suns in other galaxies?" No, it burns, it shines." (Andrea Dworkin; From Our Blood)
and i started to cry.
it was what I needed the universe to deliver to me. it was what my heart was finally open to receiving. it was what my broken soul needed for it's healing process. the path back to 'me'.
i stood up. i shook my legs, and forgave them for shaking. i forgave myself for the time i had spent away from the mat. and, forgave myself for the time i had given away to so many others, when it was obvious i so desperately needed it myself. i knelt in child's pose. and thanked myself. and thought, 'you are here. this pose is perfect. this pose is what you need'. and then i stood up and continued the class. i modified when i needed, i shook when i needed, and i took child's pose when i needed. i acknowledged the outside thoughts, and i let them pass. and then, if it felt like too much, i focused on the heat of the room, and the stickiness of my sweat, and the way it felt dripping down my arm. i felt the air when the teacher opened the door, and i breathed as deeply as possible when i could.
and when all was finished, the teacher read the quote again. "it shines".
and i left. and felt strong in my weakness. and felt patience in my urgency. and i felt stillness in my racing mind. together.
it's not perfect. it never will be. and that is the way it should be.