I ran track in high school. I remember we had t-shirts for the track team that read "Track: where there is a place for everyone." And there was. I wasn't the best, but I got to compete, to try. I learned about how you could both be an individual and part of a team, that it is important to try new things and fail before having competency (let's just say triple jump is hard), and that sometimes your role is to cheer on the sidelines.
My dog, Mavis, has become my alarm clock. There is something about 6:30 pm that makes her start singing to me. Low guttural mini-howls. It is at this point that I usually realize I am holding my breath, shoulders up to my ears, staring into the abyss of my computer screen. If I don’t pay attention to her she will attempt to crawl in my lap, all 65 pounds of her. Then, and only then, do I return to my body. I realize that I need to get up, get out of my chair, move my body, get a snack, hydrate and breathe.
I have a confession to make. The last couple weeks I have found myself avoiding my yoga mat. It has felt like an obligation - something I have to do. And quite frankly, I have been afraid of my mat. However, I know this experience. After practicing yoga for over 20 years, I notice a pattern. There is a power in getting quiet, to turning inward and listening to what arises - listening to your deep knowing. It can feel overwhelming and you can start to intellectualize what is going on - but ultimately the practice is about feeling, naming the sensations and honoring what arises. To become truthful with ourselves is often a daunting and uncomfortable task.
