Take times of adversity to reming me how far I've still to walk in my own yoga practice. It's fair to say I've felt deeply at odds with my body over the last month. Betrayed and forced to realize I'm not as in charge as I would like to believe. True to form, I tried to "wanna bet" it, forcing my body back into schedule rather than letting it rest when it most clearly had need to. So my body decided to out-bet me on that one, until there was no other option but to sit the fuck down.
For someone as independent and active as me, it was a tremendous blow. I find it very hard to be static, and while yoga (or, more specifically, asanas) would be my first suggestion for many ailments, that became impossible over the past week, due to a tremendously painful psoas contraction. Which, of course, only deepened my frustration.
But also brought an unexpected benefit: it gave me a chance to really go deep with my breathing practice. While until now, I've understood the purpose and theory of breathwork, I've gotta say it was never as central for me as the physical part. Which, I guess, is fair until you're in a situation where just normal breathing hurts like a motherf***er.
This last week, one of the few things to bring actual relief has been diaphragmic breathing, and while at first it was a mere necessity, I found myself coming back to it more and more in times when I felt scared, worried and just generally out of control. I mean, it probably wouldn't have come about naturally, but you know, since breathing insists on happening every single second, it sort of forced it to become a recurring practice.
I found so indescribably much in that.
Rather than screaming (silently, mostly) at my body for failing and puzzling me, it it forced an acceptance that things would be fine, somehow, that all of this, no matter how infuriating and strange, was survivable.
It also forced me to reckon with patience, something I am tremendously bad at. I like things to happen instantly, and I typically expect my body to follow suit. Lately, it's been less of an "I want it now" kinda deal, and more of a "how about we just sit here and breathe for a while?" kinda thing.
Which is, actually, not that bad. It's given me a bunch of time to work and to read, which I've been enjoying tremendously.
But most importantly, it's helped give me a way back into my body, a way I've only known in Asana so far. Until now, whenever I was feeling out of sorts with myself, or struggling in some regard, time on the mat was the most sure-fire way to get back into rhythm.
I thought, stupidly, that breatwork had to be ceremonial, somehow.
Poncy.
That it should have an intention, a count, several lit candles. A lot of accompanying jazz.
Right now, I've no idea if my inhale is up to 4 counts or 7. I don't know if my exhale matches. I just know the little, graceful duck under my ribcage, the slither into my belly and slow, gradual rise, because that's the only one that hasn't hurt like hell these last few days.
Obviously, I'm aware that if I'd somehow learned this before, maybe the last week would've been even easier. Obviously, I find it embarrassing for a yoga teacher to say these things. But only for a little bit. Then I remember I'm a yogi before I'm a teacher, and that I'm just a human on the path to learning things, which makes me suddenly grateful, instead, for unlocking this one. And for finding a way back into my body when I desperately needed one.