I've done all those things -- falling out of poses, laughing with joy, sleeping during Savasana. And crying...not often, but sometimes. Not recently, until yesterday.
I'm having challenging year with a family life situation that seems to have come out of the blue, but has been brewing, apparently. It's hard. Relationships are hard. Loving is hard. I've got a big tool box full of personal growth and spiritual growth tools and I've tried to use the ones best suited to this job, but I've got a call in to get a "refresher" from the tool guru--my therapist. I did not anticipate finding myself in this spot now. Part of the challenge is the shock.
I have not done a yoga practice since my Yoga Teacher Training Graduation on July 31. I've let that tool lie dormant as I went away on a trip, then came home to a week of grandchild care. I told myself I'd do a home practice with an online teacher, but I didn't motivate myself to do it.
Yesterday I made myself go to the studio. I hesitated, again, because Saturday classes tend to be super crowded and the last thing I wanted was to socialize. Depression is not friendly and chatty. So I got there really early, waited just outside the door to the inner space until the previous class finished, and then dashed in to claim a place as far away from everyone else as possible -- in the back corner near the restroom.
I saw friends across the room and felt the warmth of connection just knowing they were there, but not talking to them. I heard Elizabeth's familiar voice, instructing as she always does to begin lying down, following the breath, letting thoughts go, being in the moment.
Then the floodgates opened. I cried lying there, tears of sorrow, and grief, and fear, and relief. I just let it happen as I heard her quiet cadences nurturing me. I cried and cried until I began to feel the tears rolling back along my upper cheeks and pooling in my ears. Then I chuckled to myself. It was funny, that I was making a pond of tears in my outer ears. I had to grab a tissue and sop out the salty sea.
We went on with our practice. I kept my mind focused, my eyes closed, my energy extending no further than the confines of my mat. I cried. And I felt safe: the studio so artistically beautiful, a nurturing space so familiar to me, a teacher I admire and trust, and teacher training friends across the room to give me silent support they didn't even know they were lending just by being there.
We come to the mat some days feeling strong and balanced. We come to the mat some days feeling joyful and energetic. We come to the mat some days feeling like the mat is the only thing saving us from despair. We come to the mat with all of our self -- the True Self that observes, and the very human, egoic self that is caught in the human condition.
It's all OK. It's all welcome. Come cry with me. ©
Namaste, donnajurene
💖💜♥️💗🙏
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