Yoga: It’s Never the Same
April 29, 2016
Yoga — it’s never the same.
Some days, you come to our mats and flow. Posture turns into posture and your body easily melts from pose to pose, as if the yoga practice is exactly what the body needs and is meant to do. Time flies by and the poses don’t matter in the slightest bit — the body naturally embraces each pose with ease. You feel so grounded, so centered that it is as if you can spend the rest of your life on the mat and nothing else would matter. It is natural. You are so present — more present than you’ve ever been in your entire life.
Your surroundings do not matter. The music becomes the just the soundtrack to your life and you don’t notice it.
You come into Savasana, and your entire body melts into the earth — truly as if it’s a corpse ready to descend into the earth. You feel completely comfortable, completely at ease, completely at home in your body. You could stay there forever. You’ve never felt this happy. The high is something unlike any drug you could take — it fills you up and opens your creative centers, your heart, your soul. Everything tastes good. Everything feels good.
Other days, most days really, it’s not so simple.
I’ve been practicing for five and a half years regularly (not like I am counting) and I’m still just learning how to breathe and connect to my body.
At first, it was just about nailing the physical postures. You feel like your life will finally be complete when you can hold a handstand away from the wall — or be like your transformational teachers who clearly have no problems in their lives. You look at them and know that’s where you want to be. You can somehow get there, right?
At some point, everything shatters. You realize that your teachers are a mess. You start to realize that you are still a complete mess and are unsure if the practice has helped you at all — or if it has just made you way too aware of your own insanity, instability, and weaknesses.
You show up to your mat, ready to practice, or really, wishing you could just go home, sip a cold beer, smoke a joint, and turn up the tv. There’s no way in hell you can be present, you are so far gone that you don’t know your way back.
You spend your time glancing at the clock. Your breath is short and you are unable to penetrate it through your body. You are told to come back into body, but really, you know it is impossible. You try anyway. You spend your time trying to breathe, trying to be, trying to feel less lost and less f*cked up. If only your chakras were balanced. If only you weren’t bullied as a child. If only you were capable of love. If only your job paid better. If only…
Sometimes, with the help of a healing set of hands or with the power of the breath, you are able to come back into body. You are able to move something. You are able to experience a moment of bliss. You are able to transform your Self.
Other times, you leave with tears streaming down your face, able to connect, feeling like you want to die, and wishing you hadn’t come at all.
Those days freaking suck. Those days make you wish you had never discovered the practice. Those days are transformational, necessary times to remind yourself to keep coming back.
Yoga isn’t always fun. When I started, it was. When I learned how transformational, how healing it could be — the constant sense of fun and play seemingly went away — most of the time.
But you gotta keep coming back. I gotta keep coming back. For yoga is life, and life brings you every emotion, every feeling, allowing you to heal and live each day to the fullest — even if the fullest is fully of tears, rage, and utter heartbreak.
Because the best thing you could do is feel — good and bad and bad and good. Because you are human. And this is your life. And you need to show up to it.