September 30, 2012

A few words today.

Today at my Yoga training all of us were going through a sequence of Suria Namaskara (sun salutations). Libby, the teacher opened a class with a collective “Ohm” that resonated through my chest at first and then as more people joined in, I could feel the waves of sound propagating through my entire core. Stretching all the way from my toes to the top of my being. The sequence was not hard, and repetitive with deepening of each posture, adjusting and listening to the body. I was going into Adho Mukha Svanasana (down ward facing dog) when my mind said that I was trying too hard…that I wasn’t doing yoga, that I was in fact trying to be perfect at my asana( pose). This was not the first conscious realization of me “trying for perfection”, but I was a heartfelt one. I stopped. I stopped trying and surrendered into my breath. And it took me further, I realized that it is what I do, even though not admitting. I strive for perfection and there is tremendous pressure that I put on myself and inevitably fail. Not because striving, because of trying NOT to be human. The essence of perfection is in NEVER making a mistake, well, that is something that is unachievable in a human world, in human form. Why? Why do I expect that of myself? Stop. I would like the relief of ALLOWING myself mistakes. Brene Brown “The Gift of Imperfection”. I better finish this book. It talks about exactly that. Achieving wholeheartedness, happiness and self-acceptance through knowledge and acceptance that NO ONE is perfect. Thank Gods. Thank you Libby for that back bend today, back bends are heart openers. It put into perspective what I knew about myself, but didn’t feel it through enough to act on it. Stop trying “Perfection” and try “great job for today” and try “happy”. That’s quite the challenge for me.

At the end of the practice when we went into savasana I imagined my grandfather kneeling behind me and closing my eyes with his hands, big, firm, kind, warm hands. Then I imagined him hugging me really close, and me hugging him back and leaning my head on his shoulder. I felt so home. When I came out of meditation, and Libby asked us to “Namaste” to each other, I suddenly felt a tear coming on. It was not like the flood that I felt before, just from mere helplessness. It was a tear from the very depth. It was the one from the cracks. Like when a tree leaks sap and it slowly runs down to the roots. I sat on my mat for quite a few minutes after. I didn’t want to let go of “the safe place” I created for myself. I soaked in the last of the meditation and my grandfathers’ presence. I rose off the floor and faced the day.