I have a knack for dramatically lamenting over whatever annoying situation I find myself in, even if it’s not that bad (okay, okay, MOST of the time it’s not that bad). I can throw the best pity party this side of town and you KNOW I won’t disappoint because it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to! My tea is too hot, the leg on this chair is loose, my back hurts, don’t yell at me!
No more! I’m giving myself a kick in the ass (but not too hard… that Brat down under is just waiting to flip her hair and cock an attitude and I can’t have that)! I’ll be welcoming the present moment in all its imperfect glory.
There’s clean laundry sitting in the dryer all day? That’s ok, I have more exciting things to do. That leg on the chair is STILL loose? No biggy, nobody sits there anyway! How many times does it take me to poach a perfect egg? Who’s counting?! My mid- to late-year resolution is to stop putting all my attention on useless details and refocus on ones that produce something. All I want for myself is to forge a life I love.
So. Writing in a little rambly blog that three people read but makes me happy? Sure! Busting out more random yoga poses in my kitchen, living room, garage, or anywhere else I happen to be when the mood strikes because it makes me feel like a superhero? Absolutely!
Getting Starbucks immediately because that’s what the present moment is telling me to do?! Oh, I’m on it!
I love being healthy. I’m one of these crunchy granola, yoga teaching, wheat grass drinking, the world is roses and sunshine types of people. But every once in a while, I just switch gears and feel like having one of those meals where you just sit there and shovel MSG in your face.
Today was that day and I enjoyed it with the entirety of my corny, veggie loving heart.
For me, inversions have been the ultimate status symbol of a “real” yogi since I started practicing. Now that I can do a few different variations myself, I feel so petty and small for making them the rockstars of my world. With a lot of diligent practice and trusting that my head is indeed heavier than my butt, now they belong to me, too.
I have my superhero breakfast of freshly juiced carrots, apples, ginger, and celery, then I stand on my head, and then I stand on my hands.
No big deal. On to the next one.
I learned something about myself today. Well, it wasn’t as much a lesson as it was a realization.
I am a terrible yoga student. I mean, really, really bad. Let me first say that I do NOT agree with the school of thought that says there is an end goal in yoga. But, there are a lot of people who believe that the “goal” is to reach some kind of spiritual ascension. For me, it’s all about the journey. BUT, for the sake of this entry, let’s go with it. Back to my train of thought… If the “goal” of yoga is to attain the highest level of spiritual enlightenment, I am far from it. In yoga classes where I’m the student, I am rarely in the moment. I constantly compete with myself and whoever the best person in the room is, and I’m always (ALWAYS) taking mental notes of different things to incorporate in my own classes. I’m embarrassed to say that I’ve even gone as far as taking a notebook with me to other classes so I can jot down my thoughts and cool poses and comfy modifications.
Yet somehow, when I’m teaching yoga, I’m a completely different version of myself. I feel totally immersed. I feel powerful and elated. I flow, I can hold difficult poses longer, and I feel like my body and mind are fully reaping the benefits of my practice. For my students, yoga by itself can be therapy. For me, teaching yoga is one of the most cathartic, therapeutic things I could do for myself. I’m addicted.
I’ve learned that my practice is for my students, but teaching is for myself. I practice to feed my teaching, and teach to feed my life.