For someone rather intent on being a good listener, I’m terrible at it when it comes to myself. (Case in point: running a marathon on a broken leg. I’m neither being hyperbolic nor joking. 10/10 do not recommend) I feel like I’m stating the obvious when I say to people I’m trying to go to yoga as much as possible – prioritising it somewhere after sleep, and a little higher up than The Bachelor NZ. I have signed up for three months, after all.
It’s easy enough to brush off “those-who-do-not-do-new-age” wondering why, with “I never stretch” and something about flexibility. To really explain it further, however, feels like I’m entering entirely into a realm of that which I can’t even begin to understand. Yoga is my time to quite literally get uncomfortable with myself. Yoga makes me surrender to everything I don’t know about me – or rather, don’t want to know… and then stay there.
It’s generally the polite, reflexive response to greet an acquaintance with a “How are you?” Part of a friendship is to hold an interest in the wellbeing of your companion, and to check in with them accordingly. Therefore, I still can’t quite believe it that it’s taken me a month of regular yoga practice to do this with myself.
“How am I really doing?”
The question above is now one I remind myself to ask on a daily basis. It really helps to centre my mind into what I’m feeling, and how those feelings are leading to sensations in my body, and ultimately, affecting my behaviour. I’m a beginner on all counts at Yin, and I could not be fresher to saying yes to meditation:
A) it is easier to say you don’t need it, than to try and find it hard AND
B) it is hard.
Not that it’s necessarily meditative to have this kind of inner conversation, but I find it grounding. And I don’t just consider it when I’m doing yoga, either. It’s the most gentlest of reminders to help figure out what’s really going on.
“Do I love who I am when I’m doing this?”
This is the second important question I’ve made a habit of asking myself whilst in a posture. I’ve stated in the first week that hip openers make me want to cry, and the mess of emotions that inevitably turn into the colour red, and red always, somehow turns into blissful release when I question why. There’s something so rewarding about reflecting on whether what you are doing right now is reflective of the person you want to be. It’s so incredibly and positively reinforcing, and I find that I can somehow separate myself from the emotional turmoil emanating from my glutes (this is strictly myofascial in its release, I promise) because what’s happening in my body are just sensations resulting from old, built up feelings. And my new feeling – the one that feels like a hug when I release it all afterwards, is one of love, because I realise;